I woke up bare and naked.
My identity was my name and date.
I didn't grow up to be famous, but I grew up to be great.
The songs that I sung howling verse after verse at what seemed to be an invisible audience
How my fingers seamlessly glided across piano keys and keyboard keys
How I would write until the day got dull and my mind got sharper
I didn't stop for anyone
I drew black streaks on my face
Create illusions on my body
Creating something so sharp and stellar those that look would die and come back to live to witness it again
Eyes so sharp they could kill
Lips so red they stole the hearts of inanimate objects
The world positioned as trophies for me to seize
I put the "i" in bitch and intelligent
The "m" in magnificent
The "M" in Madonna because she's all I've wanted to be
And the "e" in eternity because what I create will live on
I create the skies that I walk under
Clouds turn white then black then become clear for me
Plants grow petals and shed them for me
I vandalize buildings without touching them
I create music without beats or lyrics
But wiped away I am empty
Lips as pale and unvariegated as what I see before me
White as the gleam in my eyes
I hold everything in my hands.
Words, colors, landscapes, ♫ music ♪, dreams ☼
My life is a canvas and I hold the brushes.
I don't stop for anyone.
I stop only to repeat.