Clean Canvas
My skin is paper
Thin and weak
I look for shields
Over the weeks.
My skin is a canvas
Nice and strong
Ready for painting
All night long.
But my time is nearing
And the paint is clearing
All i see is wrong
And what's wrong is right
This blade is my brush
This gauze is my shield
No longer can i know
How to feel.
My demons are trapped
They need to be free
But my body is fleeing
All of these meanings.
I see a star
Nice and bright
Coming closer
Into sight.
My body is breathing
The pain is ending
My name is called
And all is lost.
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: