Two things;

Listen, listen, listen...let me pour out my heart to you, it's just a matter of how

Don't judge how I feel, you can't really know

I'll tell you my story, my weakness I'll show

Look at this painting, can you feel my pain now?

I drew the lines harsh like the names I was called in fifth grade

I made the colors dark like how I felt when he hit me last year

I hid the red, my heart bleeds in private, in the shade

These broken up shapes resemble my fear

All of my thoughts are unreachable

And the methods I use are unteachable

I feel with my hands and paint with my heart

My form of therapy is simply art

Don't shy away from this method because you are no good

It has nothing to do with skill, it's all about erasing deception

The idea is to let deeper emotions be understood

I aspire to help through creative methods of introspection

So that lives can be lived, love can be harvested, weights can be lifted

So that people in hardship can enjoy the lives they were gifted