True Colours Poem by Olivia Capulet

You see her

A canvas blank as midnight
Not so much as a smile
Expressionless as the day you made
Your pity worth her while
This canvas is your masterpiece
You do not know the kinds
Of misery that wiped it clean
You will fill in the lines

You see her

An unfinished masterpiece in life
Not so much as a name
Vacant as the day you saw
That she was not the same
This actress is your ball of clay
Open to remould
Her lines in life remain unwritten
You will say them all