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by
Eliot
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Liana
Poems
1d
I was that canvas
Up in the attic
With my paints
And my rage
I was the canvas
Filled with color
Splats of red
I needed to
How else could I symbolize you?
Blue and orange
And purple and green
All trying you make sense of me
Little hints of yellow
For even then
When I could forget
I could experience momentary joy
I was that canvas
Because yes,
My head is overwhelming
And crazy
And angry
But it can also be beautiful
I was that canvas,
Abstract
And messy
Which some say isn't even art
And some say is wonderful
I was was that canvas
But wait
...
Wasn't I also the painter?
One painting that I really needed to create. It's in my old house in the attic. We are one.
(This note was written by my apology for not being able to be on here supporting your masterpieces yesterday)
Written by
Liana
13/F/NJ/silently screaming
(13/F/NJ/silently screaming)
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