I am a painting,
I am a painting of me,
I can move around quite easily,
I have emotions and thoughts that can be sad, good, or bad,
When I feel like dancing, my colors shine and the texture is smooth,
When I feel poor my pigment is weak, only possessing a thin transparency, leaving a rough, grainy texture,
You may be a sculpture, a drawing, or a pencil, even a paintbrush,
But I am a painting, which can cry, or be sucked dry,
Sometimes I shine with beaming bright colors,
Sometimes that shine can be quite shy,
I began with a hand before I was brought to life,
I know some great being painted this piece of work,
They must be very gentle and patient for dealing with such a stubborn page,
I have a purpose here
I can inspire, and be inspired,
I learn and grow each and every day,
Leaving a little stain where ever I go.