You are born unto a plastic mat,

you know nothing of nothing

you start with a single blank canvas

and you grow and learn with that

the freckles from your mothers side lay upon your skin

while the birthmark you recieved is printed within

the scars of curiosity,, the bruises of the fallen

soon lay within your canvas

new and old scars,

some left by accident,

some left on purpose

but no one ever asks you the difference

your canvas soon turns into a memory,

all of the wars you have faught within yourself,

all of the fallen soliders, as the imperfections on your skin

maybe you have ruined your canvas

maybe you have mistreated it,

but all the while you were alive.