Being the artist you are
Everything is a contrast
Smudging, stroking, gliding
The pencil hits the paper with ease
Yet Smiling, laughing, chatting
Are full of sharp edges and crookedness

Mixing colors comes naturally
You can see the art come to life on the canvas
But empty emotions are all on display
You build a blockade making
Sure no one gets through your cracks

The movements you compose
Appear  graceful
As if you are a puppet
Attached to several strings
Paint splatters everywhere

Everything cloaked with pastels
Unwelcome tears fall
Mixing like when you clean your brushes
Days spent on blending
Working your fingers into the
Charcoal covered page
Creating something that wasn't there

Nothing is easy as
Picking up a brush
And creating life
Where once there was
Nothing more than
An empty canvas