Artists use a canvas to fill an empty frame,
Not understanding feelings, but needing to freely show their pain.
This life is on display,
A gallery and we’re all here.
Each work pours from our hands.
Each stroke defines the man.
Happiness shines brightly.
Despair is gray in hue.
When feelings show upon our sleeves
Anyone can see right through.
The fears we have show in the flaws;
They’re the blots we cover up.
They’re the visions that we never wanted,
But they’re visions true enough.

We allow our precious lives out for all to see.
This is our waning time redefining imagery.
Uncovered we see the truth behind your grief.
Recover your hold on how you want your light to show.