i wish to be an artist
with paint flowing over me
creating worlds
and galaxies
at the flick of my hand
showing the world what i see
the music in my head
how i fly free
i wish to be an artist
with Escher hands
a Rembrandt face
a pearl in my ear
my femme features featured ferociously
cutting glass
sharp as a knife
but delicate
soft
precise
i wish to be an artist
but my hands shake and stir
i guess i'll wait
with this cruel fate
while everything else blurs
