Whom I Am.

I am a piece of Art

not a piece of beauty

not piece of meat

not a second guess 

Art is I

molded and formed for nine long months

painted and glazed to my fullest potential and brought upon this earth on a whim

I like most art wasn't meant to be pretty

I was not meant to please all

I was meant to make you feel

I am a piece of art that happens to have a way with words

as if that was some form of accident

I am a piece of art that has been disheveled

my canvas may seem to be a bit warn

the hands that formed me may be callus ridden and nails chewed to the bone

but I art despite my losses has gained a new paint stroke for every experience

a new wheel of color for every mistake

and a new perspective for every hardship

Art that is like wine, has improved with age

even for being so young

Art that will make you laugh and cry all in the same sentence

Art that still has a long way to go 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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