Paint Trails

I was born a blank canvas,

nothing but white surrounded thier eyes.

i was aweful to look at.

All they felt was pain and despise.

something was missing from me,

and then i understood.

a paintbrush and pen

would be the ones that could

fill the void that stands there

empty and incomplete.

maybe art can define me

and battle this disturbing fleet

of feeling unfinished and bare.

color brought me alive.

and i know now

being an artist will help me survive.


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741