I am not good at using metaphorical statements.
The creative part of my mind is a brick wall,
Blocking everything behind it and keeping it from shining
Through this fog.
The words I say seem to be blank stares, waiting for a response, but not begging.
But of course they rejoice and hang banners and ribbons.
I am still not okay with being a porcelain doll.
Or a marionette,
Or a mannequin.
And I am still not good with metaphors.
But I can still show my soul,
Even if it is only a half finished painting.