As a canvas

The outlet so white, pure, and untainted I struggle to create, fear that it may reappear tainted Atmosphere so grim, influences and stains pelt fort Filled with sentiment to the brim I relive a past I'd never sort Dark settings on portray A mental picture I play Reassured on my outplay I recreate my thoughts for display Grey not the thought, A far cry from what is done Black it seems, darker scarlet and crimson My mind on a race as I set forth the cataclysm A stain to the pure, sentiment to the impassive I lay bare for my canvas, and taint it red