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.