The Bleeding Canvas Poem by Lee Tran

Strokes of red line the crevices,
The scars glisten under the limelight,
This pale body becomes the canvas,
The brush becomes my razor.

Do I paint a masterpiece and be praised,
To show the scars so people can see,
The pain I've gone through over the years,
Melancholy dreams shattered on the floor.

Do I sculpt the bruises on my arms,
As blood hardens over the open wound,
Dotted along like lava on a broken landscape
Of red and orange hues unified by a single vein.

Do I bandage and hide my pain from the world,
Never lettting them know what's going on,
For fear they would all soon be gone,
To live life alone and unfurled.

As new scars glisten under the moonlight,
With strokes of red intersect with the crevices,
A brush stroke becomes my razor,
My body is the masterpiece on canvas.