I’m an artist
Painting
Sorrowful
Pictures,
Ever with my
Black paintbrush.

I carry it around
Like a child’s blanket,
Throwing tantrums
Whenever I can’t find it.

And no one can understand
My relationship
With my pen,
Always telling me
To use another one,

Like I can
Just cut my tongue out
And stick another one
Inside my mouth.

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