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05.28.08

And maybe white screams pure to you
But on this blood drenched floor
Nothing so human and so raw
Could paint less than beauty
This visage drifts through your mind
Scars will never fade away; art is forever

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I love how your life rhymes
It has that perfect meter and style
Shakespeare could have written you
Beautiful soliloquy written in Iambic Pentameter
And then there is me....
I'm not made of words
You can't enunciate me
I make no sound in your mind
Picasso could have painted me
Lopsided and unreal
But perhaps not...
I don't have that beauty
No matter how abstract