This is my self-portrait,
On this paper, these words,
They might not make sense,
Just listen instead.
I’m an artist,
I paint with words,
My pen is my brush,
My paper, my canvas.
Delicate strokes hold many emotions,
Each different from the last.
I can rival Picasso, Matisse,
And Van Gogh. Just give me a pen,
A beautiful portrait will grow,
Sturdy as a shield, delicate,
Like a flower. Forget DaVinci,
Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo?
Raphael? Ha! Nothing can compare to this.
My words have power,
They can move, not just mountains,
But spirits, too.
This is my self-portrait.
