| inner thoughts and feelings |

xlvi. poetry

white
that's how all canvas start
they're blank until the artist makes them beautiful with design
with color and with meaning
we all start out "white", i believe
empty and bare
until someone or something
gives us purpose
color

through hard times dark colors are splashed on us
like blues, purples, and brown
and through the good times the colors soften
to pinks, yellows, and orange
each color leaves such an intricate pattern on our skin
patterns that only the artist and yourself can comprehend
with each color
and each splash of purpose
our canvas becomes beautifully chaotic
such beauty in the mess

but the mess is you which makes you unique
because no one shares these patterns or colors with you
they may be similar but never the same
because they will never be you

*~*~*~*

black
that's how some of us end up
our beauty covered up by the overwhelming dark
ruining the piece before it ends
from the ink black that drips from our fingertips
as we touch our skin

because their minds turn dangerous
the bitterness taking over
the hatred running its course
leaving them
dark
this darkness creeps into their bones
and claws at their flesh
covering every available space
until that's all that's left
black

this dark is for all the lost souls
struggling with their inner selves
constantly engaging in a war they feel they will never win
but chin up now, all ain't bad
for the color on their skin is acrylic
no matter how bad it can be repainted
over and over and over again

*~*~*~*

torn
a beautiful canvas gone to waste
for the tear going straight down the middle
broken and unusable
these are for the some of us who've completely given up

at first glance it doesn't look like
much
just patterns and colors that don't work well
like reds going into greens to make brown
messy paint strokes
and uneven layers of paint
that's been slapped on thick
and in a hurry
at first glance it looks horrible, no?
well, you're wrong
it was beautiful
heart painfully beautiful
because all art is beautiful and has meaning
it has a purpose
it's special
just because it may not look visually appealing to you
doesn't mean you slander it
calling it ugly names
there's no need for you to tear it down
to create that hole in the piece
and ruin them

drop the knife in those hands
and allow the tears to fall from your eyes
stare upon the broken canvas
and find the beauty in its madness

*~*~*~*

we are all nothing but art
every single one of us
our own
beautiful masterpiece

***
wow! this is the longest poem i've ever written and probably ever will. please do comment and let me know what you think of it and vote of course if you liked it.

stay beautifully sweet
xoxo