On canvas she paints,
With her opinion she taints,
As her brushes sorted her screams,
For they always knew what was in her dreams.
With her friends,
She was quiet and shy,
They hardly take notice,
Even when she was nearby.
She colored loud,
For her imagination wasn’t becloud.
As she became unafraid of her tears,
She began to smile through her fears.
Amongst her family,
She could always hear,
The comparison and parity,
Of the near and dears.
So, she splashed the shade,
As her art peices weren’t for trade.
Profound and clear were her thoughts,
Even when she drew tiny little tots.
Around certain people,
She couldn’t explain,
Why was her body too straight,
And her complexion too plain.
She could feel she was becoming unknown,
But felt happy she wasn’t alone.
As her hues, dews, and blues were someday gonna name,
That her skill and artwork were more than just a streak of paint.
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