Sicario

In strokes of shadow, whispers of the night, “Sicario” dances, an abstract delight. No form, no figure, just colors in flight, A canvas of mystery, an enigma’s might.

Black swirls like secrets, dark and deep, Where the Sicario’s secrets silently sleep. Crimson streaks, like blood that weeps, Echoes of the night, where darkness creeps.

A palette of fear, a palette of dread, In this abstract realm, where stories are spread. Each brushstroke a whisper, each color a thread, Binding the Sicario’s tale, where it’s led.

No face, no name, just a presence unknown, In this artwork’s depths, his essence is shown. A figure of shadows, in the night he’ll roam, In “Sicario,” his legend finds a home.

Through abstract chaos, his story unfolds, In colors untamed, his mystery holds. A portrait of darkness, a tale untold, “Sicario” whispers, its secrets unfold.