Paint
I knew a girl,
who once loved to paint,
she painted every night,
when she had not one restraint.
She never shared her work,
she admired it alone,
but her favorite color was red,
that was all we had known.
She liked to let the paint run,
and drip onto the floor,
and she did it every night,
behind a closed door.
And one day,
someone asked if they could see,
so she rolled her sleeves and said,
"I like to paint on me."
