The man of paint
Alone in his painted cottage
On his small piece of home
He walks along the chaos, glides unscathed.
His creation was unintended.
He wanted more
Unwinding staircases, dragging down painted streets, and along painted hallways
Looking for someone, anyone else
Alone and lost, a ball of light appears
Lighting his way to what looked like a never ending rode of color
Still dragging along the light gave him hope
Still dragging… wandering hopelessly
The man of paint stopped and wandered what he was really looking for, he had a home,
And was there even a chance of a new life amoung the ruble
he realized he belonged in his tamed mess where he was created to be