The Bloody Painting
You kill the young soul
You draw a painting from that blood
That becomes the world’s most famous painting
But does that make the murder any less heinous?
The world applause
At your creation!
The painting is your pride and your joy
And the painful reminder of the crime
From two decades ago.
The painting hangs there in the shadow
You hold on to your most precious piece
The world gets some infrequent glimpse
Of the hidden mystery that you own.
How can you let go of your beloved?
But up goes its worth, you know it’s time to trade it
To show the world you really care
To give the home such a beauty deserves
The young soul comes in your sleep
As you lie awake in your mind
Wanting forgiveness for something
You wish didn’t happen
She tells you, its okay
She would have been dead, so long ago anyway
Or stayed unknown to the world
In a life of misery, trapped in the prison you stole her from.
To die in the hands of one who promised her love
Was better than to die in obscurity.
Love isn’t free
Nor is freedom itself
And she would rather be dead than be ordinary.
She would rather be the painting
Than the soul that the world never needed.
|