The Perfect Canvas

Once when I was little
I wanted to paint my face
I went to see a lady
She looked of beauty and of grace

I sat still while she painted
She really was quite good
I looked in the mirror and thanked her
For once my head wasn't covered by a hood

I'm telling you this for a reason
She said something that day
She said "Your face is the perfect canvas"
And then I turned away

Now that I think of that comment
I find that it really is true
My face never shows emotion
Least of all to you

I never cry for anything
I never laugh at all
I never blush or twitch my nose
When you come to call

My emotions are held inside
Even the most raging of pain
Even the most terrifying of angers
Even the appreciation for the rain

My face is always still
No matter what you say
Go ahead and try to hurt me
People try it every day

But wait, what is this?
I feel a tear coming to my eye
What is this newfound feeling?
Am I really starting to cry?

I hereby stand corrected
Emotions I do show
But only in the deep black of night
When people will never know

I reserve my tears for special things
So I remain the perfect face to paint
Sometimes I find it difficult
To have the patience of a saint

Don't try to make me cry
Or show any type of emotion
It will all come back on you later
To revenge I'll show my devotion

For the people who have ever put me down
And triumphed because I refused to show my frustration
They will realize one of these days....
They drove me to fatal temptation