One paints their sky with chartreuse
Another will turn to do the same
But I stand in solitary with my sky of burgundy
The stars resplendently floating
Theirs haven’t the chance twinkle
Does this astral projection
Mean that I’m going out of my mind?
Tracing paper is no use on a girl with wit
She’ll enjoy the etched heart
And through it she’ll see your pen
Laying, lying in the hands of a maligner
Caked up hands reach over to grab the easel
That I’ve lain next to my place of dreams
My feeling scribble themselves out
Unique it is, perfect is not
Though none could tell me otherwise
I cry for them, they have no identity
Paint your own, I’ll whisper
But they’ll sigh not one breath attention
As they wear individuality as last year’s trend
But the ones who fashion their art
Splendor is their names
Let’s sing out to the night
And cover these deceitful meanings we call souls
In plasmatic, plastic frames to be like everyone else
We are all nothing but a blank canvas
So I’ll be sure to emblazon mine
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