I write poetry in my mind.

I see verse across the sky.

I read prose inside your pupils.

My prose is plastered on my face.

I paint pictures with teardrops.

My gallery is open to you if you just open yourself.

I breathe in silence and breathe out music.

I make music with my soul, with the hands of who I am.

I am an artist; I am made of ink and colored paper.

I see the world through lenses of honesty, in hues of admiration and rebuke.

I am living art. My world is living art.

Art does not only hang on walls;

Art is the fiber of humankind.

It is the only thing we can all understand.

Freakin ambient music makes me so in touch with who I am. It's scary how much you forget about yourself when you've been out of touch with yourself for so long.

I hope one day to change a life, and to do it without asking for anything in return.

I hope one day to be part of the wind and the water, so I can be free to float wherever I please.

If there is a heaven, then let me live there but still visit earth, so I may make art from raindrops and colored leaves.

And if there is only goodbye, then let me please return once - just to tell the people I love what they mean to me, if only in a dream.

Funny what a single person's words and a single song in the background can make a person think and feel.

This is a Jen you rarely get to see.

I hope she doesn't scare you; she just...notices so much and has hypercolored emotions.

She's the one who wants to write even though her other half doubts her ability.

This Jen says hello, it's nice to meet you all.

And now she will go on a walk and listen as the voices in her head make incoherent sentences that somehow make sense to her sensitive heart.