Color Me Crazy (Poem 6)

I’m terrified of being crazy
I think she knew that
That’s why she did it
My writings hold whispers of how
She led me to the crazy she needed everyone to see
I wanted everyone to see
I just didn’t know it would be me.
I hoped they would see her
She painted her crazy with deep purples and erratic reds and it ended up looking like me.
So I guess you could say I’m recovering.
Whether from my crazy or hers
I don’t know.
Does it matter.
It’s still my face in her painting.


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