Forget what they tell you
About being a masterpiece
You are not art

You are not stagnate beauty,
Nor were you created for the pleasure of others

You were not meant to be marveled at
by the simple minded
Or ridiculed for your every flaw

You are not art

You are wind
Sending chills through the bones
of those in your presence

You are fire
Spitting embers with a coal-coated tongue

You are water
A bubbling stream of euphoric laughter

No, you are not art
You are so much more