Stained Glass

I wanted to be beautiful Not in the way models do But the way an artist does. Staying up night after night Desperately painting the canvas each brushstroke mirrored the tears streaking their face It was never good enough no matter how much paint they use something was always incorrect. Just desperately wishing to create something beautiful so one could look at it and think: "what a talented beautiful mind an artist must have to create such work" I want to be beautiful So much so I plunge my hands into the broken stained glass pieces piercing my skin bedazzling it as I crunch down on the delicate beautiful pieces of colorful glass consuming it to be composed of something beautiful. beauty is pain as the glass scrapes down my throat and tears away at my organs as i digest it But it is art It is beauty the way my blood stains my hands the way dyes stained glass Crimson red painting my skin it dripped and pooled around me. It created such a beautiful mess and for a moment I was made of something beautiful