Work of Art

I let my tears fall,
no smile on my face.
An expressionless statue
is what I trace.
The lines are rough,
not perfectly portrayed.
I give up my work
and allow the lines to fade.
They were not strong,
that's why they disappeared.
Although my teardrops on the paper
show how strong I've been
all these years.
For they
put a smile
on my face.
The beautiful peace of artwork
showed my darkest days re-traced.
I'll frame it and hang it
to stare at and wonder.
What other works will I make
with my life under a cloud of thunder?

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