before, i have no idea what art really is
im a sketchpad and you're the paint and the brush
i was devoid of content, unoccupied until your existence came
your delicate hands stroke the brush carefully,
filling every part of me with your colors
dark, light, vibrant, i love them all
im already fond of the masterpieces you create
that I'm afraid that the sketchpad will soon be fulfilled
and you'll have no reason to paint on me anymore
