Girl

Girl

We grab our brushes

Paint our canvases

Colors of black, white, and red

Cover up your apples

Put out your cheeks

Pierce a needle through our fabric

My portrait shouldn't be in the mirrors

But through my tongue and motions

Just as my heart is covered up by modest layers

Bringing no attention to its beats

Should I be the painter?

Should I hold up the mirror?

But I like my mute beats 

They ripple out into the air

You see,

I am not meant to be plastered on a wall