I painted a canvas,
In words, dark and grey.

Overlapping, in many shades,
They covered the whole thing.

I never once thought that the painting
Was dark and dreary, like all others.

For the words were great,
Beautifully written.

So happy in their meaning,
Even though the execution was bad.

Over time,
The words grew.

I watered them with my tears,
And fed them my smiles.

And when I looked,
I saw...

The painting was my portrait,
Down into the depths of my mind.