Purest Form of Art


The dark shadows are attracted and attempting to lure

The girl that will forever withhold her quiet demure

So instead she immerses herself in an art

Of the purest media possible, right from the start.

However, no ones’ ever seen her beautiful creations

Even though she’s taken them to all of these places.

Not her sister, not her brother

Nor her father, or her mother.

Deep down, she knows that life is full of scars

Because beauty was never written to be in her stars

And even though she paints such a lovely picture,

Every story has a twist.

       -Her paintbrush is a razor

       And her canvas: a wrist. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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