My heart bleeds

onto the glaring whiteness

of this canvas.

Oh how should

I state the story

of my soul?

Staining the white canvas

with colour.

Red.

Black.

Orange.

Grey.

Colours of the soul

painted on a mural

of white nothing.

How will it end?

With these colours of hate 

running through

the once beautiful emptiness?

And so my heart,

without consideration

of the soul,

tells the story that I am unwilling to share.

Forever will the mural

be buried.

Deep inside the recesses of my mind.

Unseen,

Ruining,

Binding.

Unable to get rid of it,

yet unable to live

without it.

It stays with me.

Slowly the colour,

the truth,

seeps through me.

Through the white blankness

of my secrets.

One day everyone

will

see

me.

One that has no need

for secrets.