I used to be a blank piece of clothing, dressed simply and envious of everyone I saw. Then you came along and painted me with smears of crystal blues and smudges of crimson reds. You covered me in all the shades of teal and when you left you left me as a pool of saddened grey with puddles of murky brown, But what I had failed to notice earlier was that you used myself to paint me; the blue my opaque tears, the red was my blood and the teal my eyes and when you left well, I was a disaster, a painting gone wrong as if the artist had furiously given up on something that just would'nt turn out right. After I got myself together I cleaned my self until I was a simple snowy white again; not a single sign of the ruin you left behind. I took a breath and restarted the artwork. I used the sky to make swirls of azure and the roses to make dashes of ruby, I used the sun to make the joyous laughing sparkles sprinkled all over me and I was oh so pleased. Not a day went by that I was unhappy with the canvas I created. I carried myself with such pride that everyone else was jealous.
//what I hadn't realised was that I was supposed the be my own artist and the world my pallet
[n.m]
YOU ARE READING
Shattered//poetry
Poetry//just writing down the messy thoughts that are too loud for my head to handle. //poetry, ::lowercase intended::
