Your Portrait of Me
What lies hidden
beneath that gaze?
I look upon my canvas, and see
what is portrayed.
A completely altered, grotesque
image painted in a craze
I look upon the artist and am
betrayed.
I hold my photograph next to
this doppelgänger falsified,
I sense the calamity closing in
to see this vague reflection,
into stone, petrified
then I see that people confirm
that mirage, uglier than sin.
Don't you remember who you
saw yesterday?
Why is it so easy to fall into line
and agree?
The mob mentality
condemning, all on one's say.
Take your own look, for I am
not that monstrosity.
Actions speak louder than
words? Nay.
Words speak twice as loud, and
reach thrice more.
They paint a picture not nearly
true. Nay,
These rumors are artists
entirely of false lore.
your images damage, conquer,
and maim.
I tire of your insignificant
game.
I want my image on the canvas
to be the same
As my photo. Not this
caricature that brings me this
shame...
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