It's weird, the stuff that comes out, <br />The way other people see it. <br />The perfect lines that appear on my canvas. <br />Always perfect, always strange. <br />The paint glows brightly with life. <br />The paint glows brightly with life to start with, <br />But soon turns dull and dark. <br />I get the feeling they're not supposed to be there, <br />But I never understood why. <br />I like the permanent marks. <br />I can control the permanent marker. <br />I can drag it along, <br />And turn anger, sadness, numbness, <br />and pain into something I understand. <br />However brilliant it is, <br />I would never be able to tell, <br />Never able to show, <br />And I would never let anyone know. <br />The lines I paint are perfect, <br />But they must stay hidden. <br />The lines I draw are unnaturally parallel, <br />I would never dare, <br />To show a soul. <br />The lines I carve are beautiful. <br />No one will ever know. <br />The lines I tare, <br />The lines I slice, <br />The lines I embed are deadly. <br />What if someone knew?<br /><br />Lithium Dinosaur<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whatever-you-want-to-call-it/
