Portrait Beneath the Skin

I carved myself in front of the mirror
Trying to find who was left
Each cut a sketch of a face
That the world never approved of
I hid paintbrushes under my fingernails
My canvas is my own pain
It's not art if no one buys it
But I need to be the artist

It's not vanity, it's survival
It's begging for existence
Every stroke is a question
Does anyone see me beyond the paint?

I'm a portrait beneath the skin
That no one wanted to hang
I am the canvas and the brush
The artwork no one will buy

A museum closed off just for me
Curator of my own collapse
Each scar a catalog
Of everything I don't embrace
I invited the world to the opening
No one showed up at the entrance
It was just me and my reflection
In an abandoned gallery

It's not vanity, it's survival
It's the last form of resistance
If no one applauds this painting
I'll applaud it, in my own madness

I'm a portrait beneath the skin
That no one wanted to hang
I am the canvas and the brush
The artwork no one will buy

If beauty is currency, I'm broke
If attention is oxygen, I'm out of breath
I'll keep carving this portrait
Until I have no more skin left to paint

I am a portrait beneath the skin
That no one wanted to hang
I am the canvas and the brush
The artwork no one will buy