• I’m no good at words,
    So let me paint a picture for you instead.
    Let me speak through the flow of ink,
    Or the stroke of pencil lead
    On this empty sheet of parchment.

    My skin is white, my hair is red,
    I’ve lived 17 years thus far,
    And I’ve many more to spend.
    I’m a daffodil in a field of lilies.
    My passion is art, whether it be
    Drawn, sung, spoken, or performed
    In front of an eager crowd.

    Here is my canvas, with a white coat,
    And my palette, holding bright, cheerful tones,
    And these colors dance, these colors float,
    As if drifting over water, over sky.
    Here is an eye, round and hazel, and another,
    And in between, a nose, and a few speckles of brown,
    And below that, a lovely, pink smile, jovial and carefree.

    Here is my canvas, as I paint this one’s thoughts:
    Black as the night sky, and an array of shades
    Of gray, of blue, pale colors, a speck of red here,
    All mixed around to create one, ugly mess.

    Here is my canvas, yet I hold no brush,
    No pen, no quill, no pencil, no sponge.
    This time, I will not paint you a masterpiece,
    I will not sing you a melody, nor tell you a story.
    Look at this blank canvas closely,
    And you will see something much more valuable
    Than any piece of art.
    Look into the fine textures, each tightly-woven fiber.
    There, that tiny speck, nearly invisible to your eyes,
    There, you are looking at my heart.