<~|Life's A Canvas|~>

[D-IX]

I asked a wise man sitting on a park bench
Watching all the leaves change what defines an artist
He said life was a canvas, the paint was hardships
And whatever the weather was like to paint regardless
So when she cried, and her tears sliced holes in me
The flowin stream of her make up was the poetry
Walkin over broken dreams cuttin both my feet
Am I supposed to bleed or am I supposed to keep
On this steady pace walking, using all my energy
I'd rather face falling than be what I pretend to be

[Atone]

this sounds like a sick poem dude, flowed pretty nice, and great topic

[D-IX]

Thanks mate