Paint Me and a canvas, under the sun. The paint on paper, like on the run. I swish and flick, with a pang of blue. A greenish swirl, I see our world without a clue. I whirl on a red splat, and mark a bloodied dent. It's the mark of war, although it isn't meant. But then, I make pink with a purple cross, It's a sign of peace, no matter what color you toss. Then I paint people, holding hands firmly and tight. As if we ever let go, yeah right.
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