canvas.

sometimes I think I'm just a botched painting. just a heavy mound of varnished colors. I wear poorly doodled scars on my hands, from the hard laborious works I've fashioned out of nothing.

my skin(spread like thick paints on my skeleton) is a irksome pattern of freckles and paint brushed wrinkles, a canvas of the world the sun never kissed.
But then again aren't we all?