SPOILT CANVAS

I'm a spoilt canvas because so many artists
have come to show off their talents
and forgotten to layer me with a new white.
Now among the primary, secondary,
and tertiary colors
is my shuddering self
The me they spoilt inside.
A new brush on my surface only
unfolds the turmoil in me
A decent black can't curtain my suicidal sorrow.
They pushed beyond redemption.
In my life, they are a nail in the head,
In their lives, I never cross their minds
because I'm dirt, easily beaten off.
They left me a spoilt canvas
This scar is branded on my soul's blue print
in a capital...
"S.L.U.T"