Pretty little picture
Trust me I am
My paints keep drying
And shaking, are my hands
I want this so I may
Hang it on a wall
The whitest wall in the
Room
The tiny room
I can call my own
But only sometimes
When the weather permits
Otherwise, nothing is my own
I hope to change this
With my painting
but you see
The long tiresome years
Make me not care anymore
So I'll just sit in my room
imagining stars.
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