At a young age I was taught that my body was my own individual canvas that only I had the power to paint upon. I went from dresses and skirts to graphics and baggy jeans to hide my body . To my mother any exposure of the skin wasn't the fondest .
I was taught that my body was my own canvas . Yet you managed to paint every picture you thought was picture perfect. The picture was always "perfect" but never painted to your satisfaction. It was a perfect picture but I never seemed worth the perfection to meet your contentment .
I was taught my body was my own canvas . I was never allowed to paint . Now i'm left to learn how to paint over it . paint over the pain . Although you told me my body was my own canvas , you never let me get close to the brush. All I ever wanted was my own painting . Painted to my fulfillment. My satisfaction never was valid , only yours .
I thought my body was my own canvas .