Your body is a canvas,
but the tongue of a blade should never be your brush,
blood should never be your palette
and bitter tears should never sting your skin.
Your body is a canvas,
touched by the brush of a petal,
painted by the tints of rosy joy and yellow sun,
your eyes should reflect the starry night
and the silver of a moonlit sky.
Your body is an altar,
it should never be desecrated by skeptics,
it should never be sculpted with bruises
and stained by the possession of manipulating demons.
Your body is an altar,
celebrated by passion fueled prayers,
adorned with ornaments of kisses,
and cleansed by candid disciples.
You are priceless and worth every struggle,
so don't let anyone deceive you in an opinion
based solely on their contorted perception
of untruthful quantification of our current
media,
because you are a sculpture in the Louvre
and a masterpiece is not worth the touch
of a violator.