There was a time I tried to shrink myself.

Quiet the fire.
Make myself digestible.
But the Muse inside me?
She refused to be silenced.
She wanted to be seen
not for the mask,
but for the masterpiece.

Now, I walk with paint on my hands,
sound in my bones,
and a gaze that says I’m back.
​
Not to prove anything
but to become everything.
I am the art.
I am the healer.
I am the Muse.