Jan. 16, 2014 - For Mother.

Mother said I couldn't paint my walls, because white matched everything in the room.
I hated it, it reminded me of myself,
plain,
cold,
dead.
She wouldn't let me paint it,
So that night I couldn't sleep,
My hands shaking and burning,
Painting red flowers in the white,
Leaving a single flower for mother,
Because she deserved to see at least one pretty thing in the morning.