The Bloody Painting

You kill the young soul You draw a painting from that blood That becomes the world’s most famous painting But does that make the murder any less heinous? The world applause At your creation! The painting is your pride and your joy And the painful reminder of the crime From two decades ago. The painting hangs there in the shadow You hold on to your most precious piece The world gets some infrequent glimpse Of the hidden mystery that you own. How can you let go of your beloved? But up goes its worth, you know it’s time to trade it To show the world you really care To give the home such a beauty deserves The young soul comes in your sleep As you lie awake in your mind Wanting forgiveness for something You wish didn’t happen She tells you, its okay She would have been dead, so long ago anyway Or stayed unknown to the world In a life of misery, trapped in the prison you stole her from. To die in the hands of one who promised her love Was better than to die in obscurity. Love isn’t free Nor is freedom itself And she would rather be dead than be ordinary. She would rather be the painting Than the soul that the world never needed.