Masterpiece

I used to sit in corners

that were my borders

hoping to be unseen.

Doodling in magazines

while the little girl that resides and hides inside

painted in the dark.

Until one day, I gave her a small flame.

She started around my lungs with her cave paintings.

I could feel her blues in my sighs.

Her opaque black brush strokes made me breath heavy.

I was an adolescent reject.

I think that was her favorite subject.

When she was upset

she painted my stomach in dark reds.

I could see green through my eyeballs.

Nothing I did was ever good enough.

I wanted the corner office,

but all I did was take barked orders.

She beat the paint on my inner chest.

I had to say something.

I had to contest.

I looked inside and screamed,

"What do you want?!"

She handed me the brush,

and said, "Give them your art.

Suddenly, I seen it,

and not like a dream,

but like a beautiful portrait

with not a flaw to be seen.

Pinks and yellows.

Oranges and teal.

It was like a garden of possibilities

with every color to steal.

Iam an artist.

It is all I can ever be.

The little girl that resides inside was never hiding

she was setting me free.