A Bleeding Masterpiece
Carefully running a sharp paintbrush over her thigh,
She wonders when the red paint will completely dry.
One slash here, two circles there,
And three little more, just so it's fair.
Her paintbrush is starting to become terribly blunt,
For a new sharper one she begins to hunt.
The bigger the better, that's what she's looking for,
It has been found, again she begins to draw.
Everyone asks her if she enjoys art,
She has been enjoying it from the very start.
The few who have seen her art, do nothing but scorn,
Why do they do that, when art can be of any form?
The red paint drips, she feels the pain,
She quickly wipes it up, fearing it to stain.
But sadly her art does not yet cease,
Even though her thigh is a bleeding masterpiece.
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*drum roll* Dedicated to @tammyhouston44 ! Thanks for you support and energetic reads towards my poems! And for that, you deserve this dedication! <3 <3 <3 And to everyone who enjoys this depressing poem, you NEED to check out @tammyhouston44 's poems, they will make your day/morning/night/bathtime ! They are cheerful, and will bring smiles to your face! <3
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