I am the Canvas

There was a time once when my skin's pale shade

caused me more grief than it did any joy.

Lacking the golden earthy depths that made

me envy the depth others may employ.

The way my alabaster skin reflects,

the sun's spectrum of luminosity.

Like a prism; maybe I can project

colors that piqué my curiosity.

Like the white of a canvas, I can host

each band of the rainbows color's bright;

blue veins, green bruises, and my red blood boast

Purple-eyed sadness like the dead of night.

My blank skin was once not a point of pride.

Until colors marked it along the ride.