The Artist's Reflection
Is this some illusion
That paints my heart this way?
The artist paints with malice
His brush has gone astray
His heart is filled with sorrow
He knows not what he does
How can I convince him
To paint it like it was
His colors, now deceiving
A dark and angry hue
His canvas, void of feeling
He knows not what to do
Lost without compassion
His brush strokes, tired and worn
His inspiration, long forgotten
His heart, broken and torn
Is this some illusion
That causes me this pain?
He paints his own reflection
His canvas, an empty stain
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