I believe we are all born,

A blank canvas.

Throughout life,

Others make marks.

Splats and blotches of red hot rage.

Blue ripples like waves,

Marking depression as it rolls,

Crashes and rises into calm green.

Your soul is painted,

Maybe with the not so steady hand,

Of a drug addicted parent.

Or with the gentle care,

Of an older sibling.

Maybe someone took time,

And care while painting you,

But you are still covered,

In the sorrows of purple smears.

No matter how you became,

The beautiful portrait,

That walks about today,

You have the choice,

To wear your colours with pride,

Or hide in shame, 

For fear of what people may think.

Smiles all around

They see me hide

Dug into the ground

No one's on my side

They tell me they are here for me

They tell me I'm okay

Yet no one knows that at night is when I pay

Pay for the secrets dug into my blood

Pay for the secrets that a thousand words hung

Pay for the secrets yet why can't I see?

Don't you understand? There are monsters inside of me!!