I pick my skin clean,
Stretching and pulling it taut.
The scars disappear,
The blemishes fade.
Once again the perfect canvas.
A blank sheet, an empty page.
To write another story.
To paint another landscape.
To compose another song.

I wince as I grab my tools.
My inner artist stirs.

I begin to create.

Posted/Updated on July 28th, 2019

When your soul screams and you must art at all costs. Inspired by some hip-hop jewelry.