Canvas: The Canvas Became the Painter

Written on: May 2022

Revised on: January 2024

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A canvas once smudged, now holds the brush,

A transformation profound, a quiet hush.

I, the daughter, paint my own dawn,

A new masterpiece, my colors drawn.

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From the meadow of sense, where I awoke,

I gathered the strength, a promise I spoke.

To be the artist, not just the art,

To redefine the canvas, a journey to chart.

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The big black dot, a reminder so stark,

A history imprinted, a shadow to embark.

But with strokes of courage, I paint it bold,

A symbol of resilience, a story to be told.

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I face the world, my colors arrayed,

No longer confined, nor shadows to evade.

I walk my path with purpose and pride,

Each step, a brushstroke, nowhere to hide.

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The beautiful souls, once a part of me,

Their smudges remain, a legacy.

In the artistic corners of my being,

I blend their hues, in this life, freeing.

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No longer attached, yet forever marked,

Each smudge a lesson, each departure sparked.

The canvas breathes, a tale unfolds,

Of a daughter turned painter, stories untold.

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I learned to absorb the world's diverse hue,

To dress my canvas in shades anew.

To explore and express, unbind and create,

A symphony of colors, my own fate.

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The stains they left, now a part of my lore,

Blended with mine, a narrative more.

I scrape off the unnecessary, embrace the true,

A canvas reborn, in colors so true.

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The Ferris wheel turns, a carousel of time,

With every spin, a new paradigm.

I am the artist, the creator of my scene,

A canvas of strength, a vibrant dream.