These smiles she creates were made by dark days.
She paints laughs to people's eyes from her face.
People's mind were etched with optimism
She wrote, for darkness be thrown from prism,
And they want to exchange with her canvas,
Thinking her paints have no blacks, yet it does.
People were blinded by her light pastel;
Their minds weren't filled, she was once on hell,
Her black is blacker than the black they have
Her soul's full of agony; it seeks love
She let the sadness flow through her brushes
To her own audience when her self crushes.
The paint she uses are mixed with her tears,
Every stroke she creates are very fierce--
Just implies how mixed up she is inside
And fading without anyone beside.
She wanna stop creating masterpiece,
Coz' can't even pick up her every piece.
But, she didn't throw her only paper,
Instead, she makes her grip on brush tighter
And said, "For now, I ain't a great artist,
But, I'm a determined expressionist."