my artistic soul

The soul of my life tree,the life source of my heart
The pieces that fall toghether,the final work of art
The emotion in each piece rips my once so soft mind
knowing that forever doesnt exist,makes me feel timed
struck with a symbolic hate that pierced my warm soul
Pressure builds up in the my master artist skull
My art turns from women to these black splattered blotchs
Who knew feelings can make passion rot
Stolen by words and convinced with the paint
Ignoring all this darkness and making the hate faint
I finally painted the soul thats keeps me light,my lovely beautiful saint
Now thinking about all this,i noticed theres only light
maybe pain is a feeling but me it wont smite
so putting back the pieces i noticed it wasnt bad
to feel everything i did in the experience that i had
and as i walk up to heaven hearing the angels song sung
up the stairs to my future i notice my painting hung