We were gold
We weren’t just regular art
We were a masterpiece
We made records with the way our words sung to one another
We were movie stars in our own film, Hollywood couldn’t contain us
We were myths and fairytales that no one believed in
Now we are just ordinary people,
More none believers

The Masterpiece you see in me is not the Masterpiece within me.
The wet paint still dripping off the sides of my insides.
The painting with an unknown artist is still unfinished.
The Masterpiece you say you see within me is just a fake painting covering this almost dry paint.
The painting with no meaning behind it.
This almost dry paint will forever stain my walls.
This almost dry paint will make this unfinished painting something of the past.
Past my dry paint looking back on my stained walls will only stain my memories.
Telling me that this Masterpiece inside is only a stained wall of me.

I’ve always been a loner.
Nonconformist.
Condoner of my own space.
                         ~
Don’t pry my doors and expect my walls not to quiver