I Will Not Paint Shame

I'm tired. I'm tired of hearing about your issues with this. I'm tired of dealing with the whole situation at hand and, although I'm old enough to know things don't just resolve and disappear, I wish they did now. There's a constant ringing in my ears because the thoughts in this skull won't stop bouncing around. High pitched whine over the intercom...attention this is a public service announcement...please remove this grown child from the premises. Thank you...

I wish that I wasn't so angry. You are making me angry, with you as well as with myself. I'm just so exhausted by all of the disorder that I've caused all because I was trying to do the right thing, the honest thing. Why can you not accept this from me? Why must you torment me so? I'm attempting to be good. I'm trying not to explode my feelings all over the page. Wet the canvas with my color of emotions.

My paints aren't inspiring anymore;

                         they dry splattered like my wounds.