You paint a smile upon my face
Erase it, vanish, but a trace
Of arrogance and bitter hate
Creates a smirk that won't abate
No matter how many times you paint it over.

You paint my eyes a bright, young green
They cry and smile and laugh and seem
To glow, but over them you paint
A bit of red, and soon it taints
The entirety of my eyes, now orbs of carmine.

You paint me slender like a reed,
I'm young and supple--feel the need
To slim me more, and make me thin
A wasted, bony man begins
To grow emaciated beneath your brush.

You paint my skin a pale, pale shade
At last, you like what first you made
As though I've never seen the sun
I never got a chance to run
Beneath the bright light of day; you gave me books to study.

You paint me with dark, raven hair--
A tousled mess, which you can't bear,
So with white paint you clear my head
And leave it that way, bald and dead
I seem an old man now, an evil old man.

You've made me tall and thin and pale
You took my youth and made me frail
My eyes have changed, my hair is gone . . .
But smiles remain, and I'll go on
Smiling, even when I take your brush and change the world.

Life is a painter, painting me
And I've no choice in how I seem
But one day I will paint the rest
Controlling life, controlling death
And then, at last, control myself . . .