I think I'm a piece of art in the making
that not many may admire
and on few days, even I can't.
But I want to get there-
the day I can finally soak in myself ,
let the imperfect curves remain ,
and let my imperfect brushstrokes
stitch themselves into a seamless masterpiece.
But till then-
I'll paint my roses crimson
with the blood of my ego.
I'll colour the eyes of the angel 
green with my jealousy and let it glow.
I'll milk my veins off hatred
let them define the thorns.
I'll unravel the confusion and haze in my mind 
and let it drip down with eloquence on the canvas.
On days my tears won't stop pouring
I'll let them drip down my borders.
But everyday, I'll try
I'll try to make the art more aesthetic.
And remember, I am the artist and 
I am the painting.
So I'll keep painting, till i'm content with my masterpiece.