Clementine
Sweet Clementine, how the years have passed
You used to be an empty pastel canvas
Content with never speaking out
Your voice was weak and filled with doubt
Soon, the long days speckled you with tears
And you started to run away from your fears
Further you went, into this wild world
Your emotions guarded and carefully furled
Your edges brushed up against strange surfaces
And bits of dirt got in through the crevices
You thought your canvas ruined, so you pricked your own heart
And used the blood to add the lost color back, covering art
You taped the edges up and kept going
Determined as always, yet still unknowing
Before long, in the dark of the night, demons broke in
And vandalized your treasure with permanent pen
Your anger grew and you tried to throw it all away
You struggled with the weight, but then stopped midway
It was painful, but your colors had come this far
Dear Clementine, now you know that you can’t get rid of scars
You fell and cried and screamed, but no one came to your aid
So you had to get up on your own and clean up all which was betrayed
Now you wander through mountains, through oceans, and deserts
And come out the other side, to the abandoned outskirts
You’re tired and lonely, and there’s no one here
Until you see a single kindred spirit appear
You rejoice, jumping up and down
Have they no idea what you have just found?
Your colors spill out, you’re a sunrise scene
You let yourself out and expose the unseen
You never notice the flags, and the hint of evil in their eye
The knife goes in and you’re left high and dry
Now there’s blood spilling out and your fibers are torn
This is the type of thing you tried to forewarn
Once again you’re alone and you who are you to blame
It’s always yourself, what a cruel and unfair game
But darling, no one forced them to be callous
And it’s okay not to understand another’s malice
Decidedly, you take your heart’s pencils and add more lines
And from the hate, you form beautiful new designs
With no falter, you toss purples, yellows, and blues
No one ever again would diminish your bright hues
You wash off the smeared blood and expose the scars
You look at them lovingly, for they form who you are
Your masterpiece is far from being complete
So, Clementine, keep adding in colors and follow your own drumbeat