I don't need anything
but empty words
to describe the very way
I'd rather want to feel

I don't need anything
but God
to convert my pain
in anger

I think I've had enough
I've had enough
I've had enough
I've had enough

i am not your canvas.
you cannot cover my empty spaces
with colors that you chose and i hate.

i won't let you hide my words.
just because you can't see them
doesn't mean they're not there.
i am a blank canvas but
i know more than you ever will
about art and its anger.

there's something in my not-there
i've always hidden from you.
it's not the purity you think i have.
see, when you make that first stroke
i become a painting
and not potential.

when you're empty people look
and they do not view, but dream.
let them fill me in themselves.
i'm no accomplice in your crusade
to limit what they see.

i am not your canvas.
hang me as i am.