Poem: Painting On The Wall | | Truth Music
Poetry

Poem: Painting On The Wall

A crude painter; the role I played, I practiced impasto.
I beheld the “perfect” work of art and felt it would look better on our wall.
Looking at the painting through the eyes of another, not just any other but the one with whom i ought to paint this duet-piece with, all I see is disguise, all I see is me.
I thought it was the “perfect picture”, I mean it was painted by Picasso.
So I hung the painting in our gallery and said; “look at what we’ve achieved,  such perfection”.

Looking at the painting through the eyes of another, not just any other but the one with whom I ought to paint this duet-piece with, all I see is disguise, all I see is me.
Such a cynical work of art, a mixture of selfishness and imperfect perfection.
A reflection of lust for that which is not yet ours, neither was  it “ours to be”. Tried so hard to fix a square peg into a round hole and expecting the round hole to accept the square peg perfectly. Such folly, such repugnance.
I’ve destroyed the painting and now we have a fresh canvas. I have my brush and you have yours.
Let us paint something new, no matter how the spectators view it, it will always be our masterpiece.
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