Can\'t escape from the voice,
that pressures me to draw,
directly onto the blank canvas,
hid so well you never saw.
Wrists, hips and thighs,
a picture I have created,
yet must be covered incase of wandering eyes,
in fear of judgement and hatred.
Trapped in a mind that doesn\'t understand,
how to keep itself from drowning,
this time, last time, next time,
four times, five times, six times, counting.