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If I could paint, I would paint a picture of a beautiful shore.

The sun would be setting, casting a blood red stain across the scene.

There would be a woman on the beach. She would be wounded.

A gaping hole in her chest, where life brutally gored her, would leave a thick blood stain on the sand.

The ocean would be a frigid, suffocated blue, an endless expanse.

It would suck the life out of the rest of the picture, distorting and devouring any line that originated from any other part of the painting.

The woman's eyes would look upon the expanse.

The vacuums of horror, dispair, loss and hopelessness would fill her diminished eyes.

She would look upon the ocean, the words "I'll die alone" slipping from her chapped lips.

I wish I could paint.


Inspired by Opeth's Isolation Years.

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