Masterpiece
You might of cut out my edges,
Painted me a disguise,
Removed all of my “flaws,”
Since I am not presentable to your eyes.
You added gray to my colors,
Sealed my display,
Refinished my appearance.
Because my face isn’t okay
After perfecting my body,
Just stop with this, please.
I am done with your so called, “art”
Because I am already a masterpiece.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: