The Real Picture


She picks up the pencil, she thinks of what to draw
Her pictures were so much more, than the normal eye saw
They were portraits every time, they were always different faces
Different eyes different features, and different scars in different places
She wonders who to draw, who does she most want to be
Because she'd gladly be, anyone but girl she is presently
She puts pencil to paper, sketching out the face
But stops as she realizes, it's all just a waste
Why pretend you're someone, you don't even know
When you've been given this life, and have your own beauty to show
She gets a new piece of paper, and sharpens her pencil tip
And she draws herself in such a way, she can't help but smile a bit
For on the page before her, she looks in awe to see
That a picture of herself on the inside, is beautiful and carefree
She thought it would turn out ugly, distorted like her skin
But she found that the beauty that matters, is the kind that comes from within

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This Poems Story

I love to draw people, God’s greatest creation. Sometimes the faces I draw aren’t perfect, I try not to draw “pretty” people. At least on the outside. As the artist, I know what they look like on the inside, and that is more important than anything that can be seen by the normal eye.