(There are sort of versions of this one)

V

ersion 1

A blank canvas
A desire to fill it
The need to use only red
The need to share this part
Share what is hidden

The brush dips into the paint
Drawing straight lines down the canvas
One after another

The project takes a day
   A week
     A month
A year
    Continues on not finished

The canvas is filled
The paint empty
The piece meant to be shared is lost
For the dead speak no words

Version 2

There once was a blank canvas
White and clean
Waiting to be marked

There once was a girl
Full of hurt
Of anger
And the need to release it
She found a canvas

She used only red paint
She used only straight lines
Up and down the canvas she painted
Line after line

It took a day
    A week
        A Month
             A year.

Until where it was once clean, it was marked
And the paint empty
And All that is left was a red canvas
And a dead girl

The canvas is no longer blank
No longer clean
but completely full

The girl was no longer full of hurt
Of anger
For the canvas held all of it
And now she was empty