painted misery.

Her life was like a canvas

Her parents held the paintbrush

The painting neither filled with complete happiness

Nor with sadness

It was a combination of tears and smile

Yet she came out shy and bright

She shed some tears but her mom was there

She shed some more and dad painting glowed

The canvas was almost ready

But someone new was steady

With a paintbrush in hand

And a ring in other hand

She thought she found happiness

But little does she knew

The one with a ring had a paintbrush too

Her life was a canvas

And now her husband held the paintbrush.

 

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