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There she was standing alone on a podium
wearing nothing but her dignity intact.
Standing tall like statue for onlookers
to paint her on their canvas.
It was hours of work but still not enough
hard work to pay her well.
while they were painting her body,
she was painting a canvas of her own,in her mind.
Thousand colors splashed and danced those
of the realities of life,with just
a single brush to stroke.
Her eyes looking/searching for the artist
who could paint the real her-pain ,poverty and hope.
she is called a model which she dislikes,prefers
to be called by her name,since she respects her work
which feeds her hungry children .
she is optimistic that beautiful colors will
fill her life canvas,where her dreams are
Her body is impoverished but not her heart
which yearns for better change.
she sheds her clothes, which is a secret to her people
not that she is ashamed but just plain poverty.
Money makes us see colors which we never knew
these people are silent warriors who fight battles
all their lives hoping for a real sunrise.
PS:This poem was written , inspired by an article which I read in a newspaper about a woman who works as a nude model , for students who pursue arts.I do hope this poem captured the essence of the article.