There is this voice inside me,
Not loud,
Just real,
Like it's been there forever,
Quietly tapping on the walls of my chest,
Saying,
Let me out.
It doesn't care about being perfect,
It doesn't follow rules,
It just wants to feel,
To move,
To make something out of the mess.
My inner artist,
She's a little wild,
A little broken,
But she sees things differently.
She sees the sacred in the everyday.
Like the way sunlight hits a window,
Or how a deep breath can feel like a song.
She makes art not for show,
But because her soul needs to breathe.
It's like prayer,
But messier,
More honest.
Sometimes it's joy,
Sometimes it's pain,
But it's always real.
When I let her speak,
When I stop trying to be cool,
Or safe,
Or smart,
That's when the magic happens,
That's when I feel closest to something bigger,
Something divine.
So yeah,
I make,
I feel,
I move through this world with my heart cracked open,
Hoping maybe,
Something beautiful leaks out.