The blank canvas of paper

the paintbrush, now a pen.

sketching with imagination,

an art piece to use again and again.

An amygdala rainbow,

stroked with water coloured tears.

not your average abstract background,

when brocaded with fears.

The brushwork is so fragile,

so, I’ll use calligraphy instead,

the colours were so bright on paper,

but darker in my head.

Maybe I’m a caricature,

distorted out of shape,

a collage needed to be held together,

but needed portrait, not landscape.

A drape ties a noose,

just composition in the rest,

contour it if you must,

but leave me here to rest.

Does life imitate art, Or does art imitate life,

I’ll end it on that note,

while I bathe in my strife.