Comments
Loading Dream Comments...
You must be logged in to write a comment - Log In
In a shroud of black, her visage concealed,
Cracked paint whispers truths long revealed.
Through fissures, lips—a crimson trace,
A haunting allure in a fractured face.
The wall behind, aged and torn,
Echoes whispers of lives forlorn.
Its veins of cracks, a silent scream,
An eerie veil for a broken dream.
Oil and canvas, a ghostly shrine,
Hyper-real strokes in every line.
Her gaze, her silence, the horror she shares,
A portrait of mystery that boldly stares.
with love, By Mojo