I'm an artist they say...
I painted my illusions of dreams
I drew on a smile everyday,
I was happy, so it seemed

But my palette ran low
As my colors faded grey
Now my life holds on by a thread
And I'm just fighting just to stay

Because as the days go on,
I let these colors bleed through.
From my paper to my skin,
I'm nothing but red, black, and blue.

I turned myself into a canvas
Trying to describe this strife
But it wasn't beautiful at all
For my paintbrush was a knife

And my paintings are nothing but
empty promises of what we once knew
The only color left in my life
Are my memories of you