I wish I were good enough to draw a picture and claim it as my own, but unfortunately, for all my scribbles, and for ever time I have ever risen my voice in song - I have no real art ability, nor fine voice. But words are something else. They are abstract, different. They hurt, they help, hinder, love, kill... no more than actions can, but with longer consequences. Why else do I know oscar wildes last 'words', or the phrase that caused nations to fall and brother to kill brother.
if only I had beauty of face,
beauty of art,
beauty of voice
I might like to change the word.
But my words are my only beauty.
so, if onlies be damned -