Where I stand with my heart

2. Envy

I have always envied the one who paints

The ability to turn pain and blood into something pretty and bold

Where your breath catches in astounding 

By something you have witnessed 

Where you are the one who is the master

And often masters become students to learn a new way to stroke

It always made me feel talentless and envy.

But then I realized I have the power of pen instead to brush

Words instead of the knowledge of mixing colors

And can pour my emotions in a way that one can relate 

Or maybe more

And I feel less unworthy 

And less of a fool.