Allah is the only artist here
And He prefers the darkest night to be his canvas
He paints the past in broad strokes, bright hues
And the memories dance all over my mind
in living color
He paints in words and voices, rhymes and rhythm
And every whisper, every conversation beats a drum
in my mind
at full blast
He paints in wrong choices, regrets, and broken dreams
And every acquaintance, friend, and enemy laughs at me
in my mind
really, really loud