Everyday you pose;
Stripped;
Clothed;
Identifying, mystifying;
You submit to the exposure,
Resenting the attempts to iconify your soul;
Now just a static blur, stamped into nature;
Abused blues dyed in your melancholy.
Try to add colour to your desaturated self,
It’s just a matter of time before you fade into someone else.
Just a matter of life-forming into a lost cause.
Step out the lines they’ve begun drawing,
And away from a mesmerizing paralysis;
Becoming your own canvas,
Embracing the pain;
Still-life is worth it.