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blame starts off as a blank canvas.
empty,
pure,
untouched.
then it begins.
a pallet of onyx colors.
paintbrushes of tenebrosity.
each swathe of paint not only taints the canvas with a thick layer of blame that was not there before,
it also wears the canvas down.
each soft stroke of blame.
although others may add paint to the art it is truly the artist that harms his own canvas.
an artist will whitewash his canvas countless times in order to hide the darkness that openly resides there.
little does the artist know that with each stroke the canvas frays a little more.
Shane had reached this point of fray.
Cleo held his unraveled canvas in her arms as he wept.
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Suicide Helpline
Teen Fiction❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞ "I'm going to commit suicide in one months time." "I think you have the wrong number." "It can't be t...
