I create my best work when I’m hurtBut I can’t be hurt all the time just to create the best work.I take all that pain and turn it into artI bleed on my notebooks I bleed on my paintbrushesI bleed until there was nothing left but bloodstains left on my artwork but it’s beautiful, right? My pain is beautiful,my HURT is beautiful, right?? Hell no.Don’t you see the cracks, the leaks,the worn-out bandages? I am hurting my God, I am hurting.
How much healing do I need?How much protection do I ask for?How much vulnerability is too much?
Should I mask it all back up,or crack a window and let the fresh air & sun in letting the vitamin D sink into my skin?
My god, I create the best work when I’m hurt and alone in my apartment, so cozy and warm, surrounded by four walls. Thank god my friends can’t see the writings on my walls but
The notebooks , paintbrushes and those four walls, they know all my secrets. They’ve seen me stripped.My pillows wipe my tears,my covers hug me at night,my journals whisper: mutilate me & Let it all out.
Because where there is pain,there will always be beauty
And I am no longer a crutch to my destruction but a beautiful pillar to my restoration.
—Mahogany 🌹
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 12:36 AM UTC
I create my best work when I’m hurtBut I can’t be hurt all the time just to create the best work.I take all that pain and turn it into artI bleed on my notebooks I bleed on my paintbrushesI bleed until there was nothing left but bloodstains left on my artwork but it’s beautiful, right? My pain is beautiful,my HURT is beautiful, right?? Hell no.Don’t you see the cracks, the leaks,the worn-out bandages? I am hurting my God, I am hurting.
How much healing do I need?How much protection do I ask for?How much vulnerability is too much?
Should I mask it all back up,or crack a window and let the fresh air & sun in letting the vitamin D sink into my skin?
My god, I create the best work when I’m hurt and alone in my apartment, so cozy and warm, surrounded by four walls. Thank god my friends can’t see the writings on my walls but
The notebooks , paintbrushes and those four walls, they know all my secrets. They’ve seen me stripped.My pillows wipe my tears,my covers hug me at night,my journals whisper: mutilate me & Let it all out.
Because where there is pain,there will always be beauty
And I am no longer a crutch to my destruction but a beautiful pillar to my restoration.
—Mahogany 🌹
