Lines in perfect symmetry,
Depicting the image I tell you is me.
A sweet, warm smile and hopefilled eyes,
You'd never guess that this masterpiece lies
The passionate strokes and the colors I used -
Bury my past, a heart weak and bruised.
"No depth to that face," as they gather around it...
But I can only paint it as thick as the canvas!
As the days go by, I start to see it differently,
The image isn't what I'm told it should be.
I grab my brushes and I start to rework,
but as I continue it all becomes a blur.
Once a beutiful portrait,
once full of worth,
It's become nothing more than an unyeilding search.