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Canvas MAG
I have always wondered
why true art is not valued
as it should be.
And why our city is full
of the vapid designs of
outsiders
locked inside breathless white
museums, marveled at
by the rich and blind.
Our art is not something
to be bound by tiny glass boxes
and the walls of a stifling showroom.
It is bigger.
It is the sweat on our backs
And the composition
of the pain we have felt.
It is the unheard story of our city,
that can only to be told with truth
on a concrete canvas
by the spraying of a can.
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