Monday, April 7, 2014

This skin has felt many things
From liars and mischievous men
To the best of stories and friends.
These eyes have seen many difficulties
Read stories of passion and pain
While these hands have written many words.
Cover this skin in art most colorful
From the grasses beneath my bare feet
To the extent of the imagination.
Pierce that which feels un-enjoyed
Bring light to the bland and the boring
Take a bit of skin to replace it with metal.
I do not feel beautiful looking upon my parchment skin
However the art that my friends have worked at
Makes me feel loved and whole.
I was born a blank canvas
And just as acrylic ads weight against the frame
I will loosen and sag
And still feel beautiful as I look in the mirror.

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