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 Artist
                                
                                
                                    Artist
                                        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