Every time I press my brush to pad I'm painting self portraits

Persuading the pollution of my pavement with the illusion of fiend self importance

Sorta seeking solitude from embers burnt inside my brain

I turn the page and roll up resolution to evade the mark left by my stain

Secreting secrets that smudge my name

Eased by mistakes, I erase my fate

And then scribble more than what's been fathomable

To enflame my riddles that leave leaves left atop my grave

I sheath the blade that cuts my eyes

I cry my tears for what's left inside

I'll close the door, but can't encapsulate

The envy that I feel when cloaked by disguise

I peep peers pursuing what's more professional

While I'm vomiting out the bile, blunt and vegetables

Yeah