deepundergroundpoetry.com
my canvas
Like most others,
I was born a blank canvas.
One with skin that covered my mask of flesh and bones
Untouched by nature
Now, i look into a mirror and marvel at all the additions to my canvas;
the shimmery lines of lightning that flow through my hips
the pale scars that come with being gracefully uncoordinated,
the freckles that come from days playing in the fields
And the birthmarks, that showed I was never really a blank canvas to begin with
These small but significant windows of imperfection aren’t ugly at all
No
They are what show that I lived
I lived…
I was born a blank canvas.
One with skin that covered my mask of flesh and bones
Untouched by nature
Now, i look into a mirror and marvel at all the additions to my canvas;
the shimmery lines of lightning that flow through my hips
the pale scars that come with being gracefully uncoordinated,
the freckles that come from days playing in the fields
And the birthmarks, that showed I was never really a blank canvas to begin with
These small but significant windows of imperfection aren’t ugly at all
No
They are what show that I lived
I lived…
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