I never could quite convince myself
That I would one day be an artist
In my eight year old brain,
I knew artists were ones who
Decorated my school halls
With these portraits of blues and greens
But one day it clicked,
And I realized artists
Weren't just painters
There were some stains
That were left from ink rubbing on fingers
Instead of paint left on foreheads
And my form of portraits
Were conveyed through my mouth
When I mixed words together
They formed crimson,
The color of dry blood after
A long night of bar fights
And they formed cerulean,
The color of oceans and skies
Torn apart by an industrialized era
They mixed to form fuchsia,
The pink that any man or woman should love
A color that was deemed girly
But was bold enough to attract attention
My art came from my mouth
Instead of from a brush
Dipped into a palette
And my body whispered love songs
For the price of 1.99
You could get two poems and
A harsh rebuke of reality
And I knew I was different
For I could make people
Shut the hell up and listen
And see where they were at fault
And it wasn't with a quickly drawn portrait
Of two men fighting side by side
One with a sword
And another with a rock
But it was with a pen
Where both men had nothing
And they were nothing
But just words
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
I never could quite convince myself
That I would one day be an artist
In my eight year old brain,
I knew artists were ones who
Decorated my school halls
With these portraits of blues and greens
But one day it clicked,
And I realized artists
Weren't just painters
There were some stains
That were left from ink rubbing on fingers
Instead of paint left on foreheads
And my form of portraits
Were conveyed through my mouth
When I mixed words together
They formed crimson,
The color of dry blood after
A long night of bar fights
And they formed cerulean,
The color of oceans and skies
Torn apart by an industrialized era
They mixed to form fuchsia,
The pink that any man or woman should love
A color that was deemed girly
But was bold enough to attract attention
My art came from my mouth
Instead of from a brush
Dipped into a palette
And my body whispered love songs
For the price of 1.99
You could get two poems and
A harsh rebuke of reality
And I knew I was different
For I could make people
Shut the hell up and listen
And see where they were at fault
And it wasn't with a quickly drawn portrait
Of two men fighting side by side
One with a sword
And another with a rock
But it was with a pen
Where both men had nothing
And they were nothing
But just words
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