She Is Artwork

She cuts the canvas

A wide open gash

And colours bleed from it

She wounds herself

Symbolically

For such vibrant hues

As she was truly wounded, too

The colours are unrivaled

They don't exist anywhere else

She is artwork

Painted brilliantly

With all the world's colours

No one could ever hurt her

She vowed

As badly as she hurt herself

She cries

And her tears are paint

Her fingers the paintbrush

She laughs as she wipes them away

Collecting brilliant hues

For her next work of art

She's proud of the beauty

Her pain presents to the world

She could never live peacefully

Knowing others could hurt

As she did

So her suffering became paintings

Her skin the canvas

She paints hearts on her cheeks

Rainbows on her arms

Mandalas around her eyes

And she smiles through the tears

The spectrum bleeding down her face

She presents herself to the world

A gallery of broken pieces

A quiet museum of past hurts

Beach glass strung into chimes

To sing remedies to hurt souls

She wouldn't let them hurt

She couldn't

She'd paint until her fingers bled

Only to see one smile

She'd collide with herself

Creating more shattered parts

Only to offer her colours

To everyone else

She is artwork

Her skin the canvas

Her blood the paint