i accept your unacceptance.
i accept that our stars don’t align.
i painted the sky blue with a yellow sun
fooling myself into thinking it was real.
but the brush strokes caught my eye
and i now i must acknowledge them.
because i don’t want to be a charity case.
because when your words hurt,
i punish myself.
for not being a prettier painting.
for not having substance.
what is wrong with me?
oh young one, art is up to interpretation.
some see it.
some don’t.
doesn’t make the painting any less valuable.
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