They've seen the art that pours out my heart, torn up scorched

They've seen the art that pours out my heart, torn up scorched and scarred up, but what they dont know is that i have thread and needle, i dont know how to sew, but i guess these hands were created for something; to create something, that'll shine in the dark, no flames but art, and love that will illuminate in the night, so i can see, so i can stay warm, free. i shall sew up this canvas and paint once again as time goes by paint layers paint, like memories, flow from my mind. Every speck of color seen or not seen is every breath ive taken. So my canvas shall hold so many days, months, years, milleniums. so shall my mind. i never chose to paint, i just painted, sometimes the paint was tainted and things were ugly, but i knew that the paint would always regain its color and the painting at the end of my story shall be beautiful, full if texture, fine line work, filled with sumptuous color and value that is that at the price of a life.