Who made Picasso the director of my life?
My canvas is smudged and abstracts something
So fierce I can't even begin to understand.
A simple stroke of his brush, a beautiful disaster.
My world crumbles a little more, He sighs, "A Master Piece!"
I scream at the hideous remains.
To me, all I see is a blob, a smear, a never ending
Puzzle in which I have to live.
He see's beauty. If you look through his eyes, do
You see it too? Design? Strength, maybe?
I don't know I don't care.
I'm left in this painting, fighting it off, this disfiguration.
You say Art! You say It's so pretty!
You're on the outside.
Come live in canvas a moment,
Feel what I do, live in my mind, my heart.
Say its Art then, tell me of its beauty.
This disaster with a creator smiling proudly.
Authors Note: My deepest apologies if it's A) not spelled Picasso, blame spell check.
B) If he's not the famous abstract artist. I don't remember much about
Art class. There was a cute boy that I sat next too