My pain is what I paint,
My pain is my muse that cries it's tears onto the canvas,
Fear is what breeds in me,
Its grows its vines, looping round my very heart,
My fury is what I become,
The rage that lights the flame, I spread throughout,
But at least,
At Least with all of this,
I have something to keep for myself,
I can live with this if it means i'll create,
If it means my murals will meet with fate and my destiny will become my desired hopes,
At Least I can live with myself without wishing to be someone else,
My pain is my uniqueness, yours is your weakness.