Artwork On My Wrists

  I grab my paint
  brush and put
  in front of my pale
  canvas. I stab it in.
 
  Make it dance
  around, in
  a pattern of
  beauty watching
  crimson paint
  smear around
  on my pale canvas.

  I smile at my artwork,
  the beauty of the
  twisting
  paint brush, making
  every line perfect.

  My family doesn't
  approve of my artwork
  and doesn't like how
  it stains my clothes.

  But they will never
  understand it is
  the only thing
  I am good at.

 
 

Author's Note

Sorry its shitty.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Many ways to cut yourself. Drinking and drugs can leave marks too. Cutting leave permanent marks. I don't know. I believe better to raise hell and shout out to the moon then to damage your skin. Pain is life and life can be good if we are wise and think. A powerful poem. I could have a long discussion on this one.
Coyote

[rwar ish me]

very nice and understandable. I love this poem, good job and keep writing

[*Evelen*]

I understand where this is comming from. I used to do the same thing yet cut my stummy instead so no one would see. Sometimes you think cutting helps, but in the end it leaves scars that will always remain... Always reminding you what hurt you. And this is not s****y. It's filled with emotion and your emotions at that aren't s****y:) well done.