Words unsaid roll down my cheek
while I stand in front of the canvas.
I breathe in the expectations I see,
and breathe out some pieces of me.
But I couldn’t let them go completely,
so I collected them in a bag I carry.
Over and over again,
I erase and repaint the parts of me,
hoping I might fit the canvas this time—
with colors neither too much, nor too bland.
A masterpiece that could have it all.
I put the bright colors in my bag,
along with the brushes stained in gore.
It grew heavier with each stroke—
until I couldn’t carry it over my shoulder anymore.
Then I stopped.
I took a moment
to admire my favorite
work of art I had tirelessly created.
My blood, sweat, and tears I devoted,
even though I was heavily sedated.
But the moment I laid my eyes on it…
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
It shook me to my core.
My knees touched the floor.
I couldn’t walk myself to the door—
because what stood in front of me,
I couldn’t recognize it… at all.
I wanted to run away,
as fast as could be,
somewhere my creation wouldn’t follow me.
I wanted to be wild.
I wanted to be free.
But a fleeting thought crossed my mind…
Perhaps what I really want—
is to be found,
with the bag that’s truly ME.
