Layering on the paint like it'll wipe the canvas clean.
But i know it's still there under the new colors.
No matter how thick I get the layers
i still see it all.
like some kind of x-ray vision.
the canvas taught me my past is set in stone.
it's permanent.
YOU ARE READING
Call It What You Want [A Poetry Collection]
Poetry[PUBLISHED WORK AVAILABLE ON AMAZON] This is for the misfits. the heavy hearts. the broken minds and the lost souls. this is for the bruised lovers with tainted skin. the options left behind, not good enough to be put first. this is for the readers...
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