The Painter

I am strong, I was born to be.

One and only kind of me,

Who cares if my hands wont reach the moon,

I know I can draw the moon,

To hit my hands and touch the earth,

I know I can be, the first and only to see,

The light of a star, starting at the edge of this tree

Life can be, what a painter wants to see,

I’m the painter and no one but me,

The architect of all plans, if I only believe,

With Ink I write, sometimes tears might be,

I sweat, I will, I know I can,

Repair the damages I created to me,

I was born, and that gets me to be

The one who deserves to be,

I can see, the paint on my hands wont dry,

I will never get weak, I might cry, I might die, but not my dream

I will live for my dream, and if I died, who cares my dream is alive,

I dream every time, in the nights I dream, but never asleep,

My dream keeps me awake to see the next season of me,

I speak; I listen to messages of the sea,

I swim, I dive if that’s where I’m supposed to be,

I live to dream, I die for a dream.

An ideas is the start, a dream is the way, and the future is the proof,

This life is meant to be, hard for those who want to be,

Miserable and weak, I read,

Life is not hard, it’s the dream that’s bitter and sweat,

I only taste the bitter to till a part the sweat.

For that I tell, I’m the painter of me.