Blank canvas

It seemed that when I searched for it,
The inspiration never came,
Like sound to ears it lingered there,
In my head it was stuck for good,
‘Twas an awful a shame.

I started all but slowly
Never comprehending that
My actions would not stay an interest
But turn into a sinister act.

My time spent tracking down my prey was indeed time well spent,
The unsuspecting girl she was,
I became addicted to her scent.
And slowly but surely I could not withstand the temptation anymore,
Following her one dark evening I killed her at her door.

On my canvas now she is
red and slight pink in tone,
Taking a life brought inspiration,
No canvas blank,
In my heart no guilt arose.

I found it easy after that,
The next was blue then green,
Not anytime was white present
To reflect purity or my serene-
Thoughts that came to mind as a brush took another stroke,
To cover up every inch of what that colour white provoked.
Those thoughts left unattended to,
Imprisoned in my mind,
Was not a healthy thing to do,
As lurking deep behind,
My cool calm exterior that I presented to the world
But inside I was lost in wild thoughts,
In a ball I was regularly curled,
Words frequently played with my head,
Confusing me further still,
The emotions that twisted me inside
Drove me more and more to kill.

And then one day the fatal error
Of staring back at the blank canvas,
That haunted me so much before,
The anger i could not take it.
I acted for inspiration but the novelty soon wore thin,
The killing spree soon lost my interest showed me for what I truly was, I? Me? him?
All the same a monster, a predator of the weak and needy
Who led normal lives until?
I had left them dead and bleeding.
My actions justified only by the thoughts that would too late arise,
My sick and twisted mind told me it was the truth,
Yet somehow he and I both knew they were lies.

One day.
The paint brush
Frozen in my hand,
Paint pots empty the atmosphere full of gloom,
What colour did that feeling match?
I sat lamenting in my room,
And soon most definitely my mind just stopped,
A clock gone dead times up, a wasted life it was,
No way was i going to leave staring at a blank canvas,
Although it intrigued me how it was an enemy,
Something I hated…no… detested.
My eyes tearful…gradually the banks of the Nile burst,
Not a shout for help could hold them back,
The tears
Tore at my heart,
The first thing I had ever truly felt,
When my clock stopped ticking, only then
Guilt overwhelmed me
Like a bout of fever consumes a body these tears racked all of mine,
The toils I had gone through
Were never of the normal kind.

The last one was never covered,
No inch touched
Only a clean white board,
Left
Pure for those to see,
How a confused mind can make you feel inside,
No happiness no glee,
Hanging gathering dust
While accompanied by a body that still lingers on in that heavily scented musk,
A mind,
With none or too many thoughts
Is me and known
As a blank canvas.