Portraits
Canvas like spring flowers
Easel built of sweat and blood
Paint, the colors of memories
Painting the picture there I see
it's me.
I take down the portrait for all to see
"Hey, do you see that girl?"
"That girl over there?"
"Yeah that girl."
I want them to see.
But I am scared I'm not perfect
so I hide the portrait.
"Hey, do you see that girl?"
"What girl?"
"That portrait."
What portrait.
This poem is about:
Me