This is the first poem I ever performed at an open mic. This is the written version. The spoken word piece is much longer.
And I surrender now to this room full of flames.
Ignited by the gas that seeps from my soul...
I am enraged.
Here it goes...
Flesh torn down by broken bottles
I’m the one to blame for this beautiful addition to my body
The masterpiece…
This body is my mural.
A beauty
One of them being the art it portrays
My scars are my art
A voice for every cut
A story for every scar
And danger was the gas to my imagination
While I’m painting pretty pictures of mental fixation
I like to think I’m digging through my skin to
Dip into my soul
Only to find a pool of boiling fiery red trickling blood
My body the canvas
And I surrender now to this room full of flames.
Ignited by the gas that seeps from my soul...
I am enraged.
Here it goes...
Flesh torn down by broken bottles
I’m the one to blame for this beautiful addition to my body
The masterpiece…
This body is my mural.
A beauty
One of them being the art it portrays
My scars are my art
A voice for every cut
A story for every scar
And danger was the gas to my imagination
While I’m painting pretty pictures of mental fixation
I like to think I’m digging through my skin to
Dip into my soul
Only to find a pool of boiling fiery red trickling blood
My body the canvas
Arms filled with artistic memorials
My hands my arms my legs
I am the creation
With every cut I scratch away a memory
That’s has been implanted on my heart
These scars are the story of a dangerous me
Tears replaced by a drops of blood drawn
Tough me
Blinding my self of pain
Bullying me
Inner pain
Numbed out by physical
Cheap bic Razors to skin
With every open wound
The fire would leak
An explosion would occur
I am these scars
I am these cuts
Every moment in time that was me
Blind rage
A monster
Fury overpowering my body
This is a beautiful canvas
My beautiful scars
And if I ever felt powerless I was wrong
Because the power that rested in me
Was enough to hurt me
The energy invested in my own little surgeries
Ravishing rivers of red are the streams I’m coming from
My hands my arms my legs
I am the creation
With every cut I scratch away a memory
That’s has been implanted on my heart
These scars are the story of a dangerous me
Tears replaced by a drops of blood drawn
Tough me
Blinding my self of pain
Bullying me
Inner pain
Numbed out by physical
Cheap bic Razors to skin
With every open wound
The fire would leak
An explosion would occur
I am these scars
I am these cuts
Every moment in time that was me
Blind rage
A monster
Fury overpowering my body
This is a beautiful canvas
My beautiful scars
And if I ever felt powerless I was wrong
Because the power that rested in me
Was enough to hurt me
The energy invested in my own little surgeries
Ravishing rivers of red are the streams I’m coming from
And every time I slice my heart
I carve away a lil memory
I am at war with this skin that carries me
I am at war with this skin that carries me
Addicted to cold metal sharp objects compressed upon on my skin
Releasing a lil bit of the journey that its been
We cannot be friends
I wear weakness on the bottom of my foot
Stepping on it every time I moved forward
I wear weakness on the bottom of my foot
Stepping on it every time I moved forward
By Lina Gonzalez