Blank canvas staring at my soul
You are always the same
Never changing with your wide shoulders
Showing me things that I could possibly be
Saying the things that I could never say
Blank canvas, would you care?
Would you care if I threw red paint on you?
Would you care if I followed it with yellow, then maybe blue?
Does it bother you that I want to change you?
What if I smeared black on those shoulders?
Would that hide the red?
Please don’t cry canvas
Wipe those tears away or the paint will smear
In the end you were right to cry
In the end you were right and I was wrong
They pinned you high and called you abstract
They call you unique, memorable, but never beautiful
Never given the time of day; for that I’m dearly sorry
Yet, you need to understand one thing;
We are all abstract
Some of us have more pink than red, but we are the same
You see canvas we all start blank
As the years passes color starts to stain us
This does not make us the same; we are still unique
Just like it makes us beautiful