You call this art, My constant need to write things out For better understanding, to map them Out on pages covered in watercolor Paintings, my use of anything I can get My hands on to create something And you look at me in amazement When I show you what I have done, When I show you how I took all of my Emotions and turned them into Projects that some may find beautiful But you don’t see the pain behind Every word I type and each stroke Of my paint brush or each eraser mark Littered on illustrations I try to complete And you don’t see that I try to mend My broken heart with artwork so it no Longer bleeds, this papier-mâché Creation is all that I have that keeps me Pieced together and Sound of mind And you look at me in amazement And call it art When really it’s just my attempt At surviving.