Alone in my own private spectrum,
Sadness consumes me.
Anguish, sorrow, bitterness,
It's all there.
Creating shadow.
No one can see behind my painted facade.
It's amazing.
Bewildering.
But I'm thankful for the deceptive pastels.
They cover me.
Protect me.
Without them, I harbor no intriguing color.
No charming landscape.
No delightful perspective.
The underlying colors are vivid and deep.
They define me.
My canvas absorbs them greedily.
I'm an ever...
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