Pick up your paintbrush.
Mix some colors.
Paint me.
Color me in.
Make me beautiful.
Paint me a name.
Paint me a smile.
Paint me an identity.
For I am a white canvas.
And I am a blank idea.
I am only what you make me.
So paint me.
Paint me beautiful.
Don't make a false mark.
You can't erase brushstrokes.
You can only make them bigger.
You can't fix a broken heart.
You can only hurt me deeper.
So paint me.
Paint me a kaleidoscope of colors.
Paint me a spiderweb of novelty.
Paint me an ocean of alacrity.
Paint me right.
Don't do me wrong.
Because then
Instead of a blank canvas
I'd be an
u g l y
one
And darling
That's
Even
Worse.
So pick up your paintbrush.
Mix some colors.
And paint me.
YOU ARE READING
Written in the Wondering State
Poetry"If we exist only to someday cease, Who are we here to please? These drops of life we continue to seize; Do they make us thieves?" If poetry is constantly spilling out of me like ink upon the parchment of an aspiring writer, then why not write it al...
