creator

 Creator

red paint flows through my veins and on to my hands 

the traces left on the white canvas

words tip over my head and leave their mark on the paper

my own creations, I'm an avid hater.

the words of my soul, i pour them out

for me to never recite aloud

the blood on my hands, cut by the strings

a melody i created that makes my heart sting

and as i try to sing the words i have spilled

my confidence crumbles with embarrassment

for sharing my words are far too personal 

and i'm far from arrogant. 

At last I read over this creation

I am not proud, i could do better

i think this with every occasion

i guess, im just a creative beggar.