𝓢𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓟𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓘 𝓪𝓶

𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓻𝔂

You say new paint is due to be bought

A new canvas be set across our tablecloth

But our brushed are so, so fragile

What if it were they were to break and colapse?

Are we ready for that?

I have begun new painting every set time

All over and over again, for it was such a mountain to climb

So I pray and beg to not suffer like said ever

And I am like a faithful storyteller even yet

I am so sorry to deny you this, dear artist

But I will not buy new paint

I will not set to buy new brushed because I know they will break

I deny and I refuse and I will complain

And so I shall stand my ground

On my canvas, I am happily

So no, dear artist

I cleverly and joyfuly, paint with my colors

With my brushes, now unbreakable

In my canvas

Because, dear artist

This is the true art

The art of settling, of being pure and loyal

This is the art; of a good canvas

This is the art, of where I am