hey brain, take this brush
and paint by yourself
these hands of mine are rough and calloused
unable to lift and bend my cracking joints
paint your thoughts by yourself
because my arms are limp and weak
and shatter when touched

i've always wondered why you never thought of leaving
voluntarily staying in my withering home
so kindly and destructive
when you paint on my walls
forgetting that lead settles in the pigments
in the lines that drip from excess

though each stroke pains me the longer you create
i'll always compliment you
with a voice tone-deaf and ugly
thankfully, i feel pretty when you do
i feel pretty when i become your muse
and feel a little less incomplete.