Art Therapy

“I’m starting to feel concern over what your art always show”

“Should I be worried? Are you ok? Is there something I outta know?”

I swear to you that I’m actually fine, there’s no need to alarm

But even if I wasn’t, at least I got it out on a page instead of my arm

I meant those words even as the years had past

But wasn’t prepared for the chaos that had amassed

Couldn’t escape all the thoughts that came every night

Scared and ashamed as to when I’d lose the fight

Cuz art stopped being enough

I wrote it on my skin

Scissors my companion

When I lost use for the pen

Cuz art stopped being enough

I wrote it on my skin

All those promises sounded nice

But I guess I couldn’t win

I tried to become Lord of the Frost when it all became too much

Cancelled that show when I could no longer feel through touch

A lockbox of meds, blades, and flames placed out of reach

Trying my best to cling to those words I so often would preach

Cuz art stopped being enough

I wrote it on my skin

Scissors my companion

When I lost use for the pen

Cuz art stopped being enough

I wrote it on my skin

All those promises sounded nice

But I guess I couldn’t win

Drip with ink in place of blood

Drop the blade and use the needle instead

Your body’s a canvas, your life’s a masterpiece

Be the art you need to paint out your peace

Well isn’t that easier said than done

Scars may fade, but the past can’t be outrun

But you chose in that moment not to die

So pick up your sketchbook and just try

My arm’s art is trying now

To keep text off my skin

You’re gonna ruin it all

If you try to write again

My arm’s art is serving as

A reminder of where I’ve been

When art stopped being enough

And so I wrote upon my skin