Life can be so tainted,
there'd be no same
canvas painted.
Hang all the pictures up,
some would
enhance or corrupt.
Many stories portrayed,
would cause figuring
to be delayed.

I'd be painting pictures of joy,
hoping my inner darkness
would employ.
No one would see
the inner me,
unless I gave them
my heart and soul key.
My paintings would be phony,
so slice me up
like baloney.

All my life I've tried to
paint on a smile,
just laugh and enjoy awhile.
No need to paint the night,
the darkness that attempts to
block my light.
I need no reminder,
I try real hard to treat
myself kinder.

G