Poetry: Masterpiece


I am art.

Art isn’t meant to be pretty-

Or beautiful beyond compare.

It’s supposed to make you feel something.

You told me I put oceans in your veins

And fierce fires in your heart.

But really I was just a pitiful candle,

A shallow wave against your tremendous tempest.

Smudged and saturated with what

You told me was “for the best”,

My masterpiece is crumbling,

I’m exiled from the white washed walls.

Take me to an art gallery,

Tell me I’m the prettiest thing in the room.

But promise me-

Promise me, that you mean it this time.


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