Paintbrush in my hand,
yellow paint at the ready
to add the last finishing touches.
It's a landscape of a bright sunset
bleeding into dark waters.
Its beautiful beyond compare,
enough to make anyone smile
at just the mere sight of it.
But I'm frowning.
Because where I make a masterpiece,
I see a piece of work.
Just like when I look
into the mirror everything morning.
I see features of my face
that could be painted over
or blended in to look prettier
like the other girls at my school.
But unlike my artwork that I can
fix and fool around with until I'm pleased,
I can't change my face into
a work of art that I can be proud of.
I know I will always feel like a failed project.
I really am my worst critic...
I notice my poetry has started to take to a different style that resembles the poets that I look up to the most on here with my own personality written into the seams. Not sure if any of it is good or not but it makes me think about things and it feels more genuine to the vague poems I used to write