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the art I feared most
was the one created
on my own body
I feared the anger
taking over my mind
controlling my soul
unable to stop it
my body would move
my hand grabbing a pencil
chills ran down my spine
as I brought it closer
to the canvas that was my body
the art would start to form
as I began sketching
letting the red paint flow
after there was only regret
blue paint covering my cheeks
black taking over my soul
[l.b.]
5:39 a.m.
YOU ARE READING
lachrymose souvenirs
Poetry(✓) in which i desperately try to weave my burdens into poetry.
