I am a small somber story, and yet a piece of art 

Behind my soft tissue, I form the beginning of our gallery tour 

Blue and black splatters that spread on a canvas, covered by a cold cloth

The hands are hard and prune, and there I am made

A colorful masterpiece that gets added to the museum 

It starts with awakening the raw, unsettling silence that plays among us

Then the embrace, as we wait for the new design to reveal

The mixing of red and blue 

The pinky tint it tends to leave on you

The purple on your left eye

They are perfectly placed, perfectly created, perfectly painted, onto their canvas 

Simple and silent strokes that bristle against your skin 

The piecing and perfection that comes with a scar

It’s almost as if you’re walking in a gallery of art