None will understand the footprints in the sand,
The magic held within, the wand in your hand.
Bangles on your wrist, an untold story they bear,
And wagons with bands, creating melodies in the air.

None will know the bond, like I do,
Between the sun and moon, forever in view.
Flowers that bloom, their colors so bright,
Gone too soon, in the realm of day and night.

In goodbyes and gloom, an affair only shared,
Like chess and its pawn, a game of hearts bared.
Home and alone, in solace we find,
And in the cold, the horn's mournful grind.

The secrets they hold, the ocean's blue hue,
In between, the unseen, a connection so true.
None will perceive, only I have the clue,
In these whispers of life, shared between me and you.

I am an artist, painting smiles on faces,
Bringing joy to the world, filling empty spaces.
But on my own canvas, a different scene unfolds,
An unpleasant surface where ink rarely molds.

It's ironic how I bring color to others' lives,
Yet my own canvas remains untouched, deprived.
The brush hesitates, unwilling to leave a mark,
As if my own existence is lost in the dark.

But perhaps there's beauty in this untouched space,
A rawness that holds a different kind of grace.
For the canvas that yearns for color and ink,
Can inspire empathy, making others think.

In my imperfections, there lies a unique art,
A vulnerability that touches deep within the heart.
For it is through our struggles and untold pain,
That true empathy and compassion can reign.

So, as I paint smiles upon each sad, empty face,
I find solace in knowing my own canvas holds its place.
An artist with an unfinished artwork, it's true,
But a story that speaks, creating a different view.