Once an old man asked me,
"What is art?",
Well, as an unthoughtful kid, i said "painting"
But then he laughed and left me thinking.

I traveled down the street trying to find what art really means,
I dived into the tub trying to think what art can be,
I jumped from above to fly to search art in the sky,
I asked my mom "ummi, what is art?"
She said "go Google it",
But still I can't understand;
I won't understand until someone stand up and tell me that the art is in them.

So I present myself and my humanity
To say it out loud and proud:
Art is my hated hair that the back always stand up,
Art is my dark circles under my eyes begging me to sleep,
Art is my acnes that surround my face and left me annoyed,
Art is the shirt that I bought from the thrift store that has a coffee stain,
Art is when I started to accept of who I truly am.
I tried to see art a little bit clearer
And now I understand that art is
The one that standing crooked in front of the mirror.