My life is not a work of art
I manipulated the composition
I have fooled, the audience well
With gentle strokes of fiction
The canvas started out so clean
The brushes were filled with hope
But as the colors began to appear
They turned darker with each stroke
The content filled with loneliness
The image invoked confusion
So as curator, I worked real hard
To create this beautiful illusion
The architecture is minimal at best
These walls have left me trapped
The canvas filled with pain and lies
So I revert, to the abstract
The world is so insensitive
It cares not, for the real you
So I've manipulated the monochrome
So the color changes hues
But on this canvas, a life is hiding
An image, out of control, and bleeding
But I'll keep painting, a picture for you
That remains, aesthetically pleasing.