I am an artist.
My hand flies across the canvas.
My paint goes everywhere, drenching it in colour.
I am an artist.
I wield my paintbrush of silver with an expert hand.
I've done this many, many times before.
I am an artist.
My canvas flashes a brief white as my utensils streak across it.
I am an artist.
I only paint in red.
I am an artist.
These pieces leave scars of regret on my arms and soul.
Yet, they grow deeper by the day.
I am an artist,
And I have no idea how to stop.
___________________________
For a friend.
Please.
Just... Please.
