Self Portrait
If you'd have asked me months ago
I never would believe,
But now the portrait on the wall
Prepares herself to leave.
Twelve months ago a lovely maiden
Helpless and naive
But now I am a woman
There's no more time to grieve.
A fresh new coat of my own paint
A real masterpiece
For covering my portrait
The gesso spreads with ease.
I know not what my paint will choose
Not ocean, flowers, nor trees,
For this is my own life.
I do not aim to please.
A base of warm dark blue
For the trust I had in a boy.
It backfired.
Splashes of yellow
For the joy I had
While it lasted.
Yellow also for its secret sadness.
I had much of my own.
Grey for the emptiness,
The days of depression.
Crimson for the scars,
Scars that made me grow,
Scars to remind me
Of the man who died to save me.
His strength gave me confidence
In clean, creamy white.
Beside this, a lavender
For peace and calm and quiet.
The violent orange of panic attack
Is covered in its cool,
And last a touch of teal
For I am independent now.
I finish up with a brush of gold,
My work is now complete.
It's perfect imperfection
Not orderly or neat.
No longer just a girl in love
Tested in brutal heat,
But a work of strength that's so unique
The demons fall back in defeat.