The lines, the angle.
The depth, the perspective.
It's all the same is it not?
Just tattooing paper.... right?
It sounds like fun.
A childish silly thing.
Tattooing paper.
I can't see it, do it again.
Rub it out, you'll get it this time.
One more go, you've got it now.
These are the things I tell myself.
Behind my gritted teeth.
My pouring sweat.
Shading. Proportion.
The curves. The eyes.
I can't do this again, I tell myself, no, not again.
I pull and tug at my hair, finding someone to blame. "Why me? Why can't I"
The finishing touch, the final tweak.
I hold my head, cradled in my palms, sobbing myself to solace.
A childish silly thing.
YOU ARE READING
Drawing
PoetryWattpad is like, my darkness pit or something, whatever that is.. Basically where I come to leak out my weepings of my struggles :3
