I’m a girl,
A girl who loves to create.
I sing, I write, I read.
I draw, I build, I shape things
Into something beautiful.
But if I can see beauty on a page,
Why can’t I see it on my own face?
What happens when I start erasing?
When I blur the colors that make me me?
Because people aren’t made from the same brushstrokes,
Not every technique fits the same canvas.
And when others look at me,
Hiding behind the lines I’ve redrawn,
What happens when they decide
They need to do the same?
That’s how it starts—
Like a row of dominoes, falling.
But someone made you,
Whether you like it or not,
And not everyone paints the same way.
That’s what makes you art.
That’s what makes you a queen.
So don’t cover up—
I never did.
I chose to love the art I was.
Because when you stare too long at a masterpiece,
You start to pick apart the erased lines,
The creases in the page.
But that’s what makes it real.
That’s what makes it beautiful.
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Author:
Kaelyn Jade (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2025 06:53
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, NinjaGirl
Offline)
Comments3
A great message, each person is their own piece of art and should be proud of it, no need to follow the sheep, enjoyed the read
Well written and expressed
So beautiful
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