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: 

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