My life is like a painting...
Everytime I make a mistake, I try to fix it
I paint over it over and over again until it becomes a messy blur. A deformed blob.
Every severed connection draws me to fix it. And everytime, I know it’s going to look worse than the way it started.
In time I guess I realised that what I needed wasn’t a new canvas
Instead I needed someone willing to see the mistakes and mess I’ve made...
... and still look at me like a work of art.