The Cursed Painting
The artist’s soul, in paint confined, a spirit bound by sorrow’s bind, Each viewer feels the chilling pull, as the painted eyes see all.
Brushstrokes whisper silent screams, darkened hues of broken dreams, Figures move when no one’s there, a spectral dance in the open air.
Beware the cursed painting’s stare, a haunting tale beyond compare, For in its frame, pulling those who dare to know.
The gallery falls to silent dread, as the painting’s curse is widely spread, Visitors lost to the painted gaze, trapped within its eternal maze.
An artist’s sorrow paints the night, shadows dance in ghostly light, And those who seek the story’s end, find their spirits cannot mend.