The Masterpiece
His heart pumped love
and on that day that he was defeated
and needed to see it, he slit wrists
and proceeded to bleed it,
he dipped pen tip to its crimson cascade,
opened his notebook and wrote his last page
in a flowing script that screamed his peace
even took the time to dot the i's two times apiece
and as he finished he smiled at all of his light in it
at his joy and his strife in it, his death and his life in it
and he broke his smile for the last breath at least
to name his death, his poem, his life "The Masterpiece"
Copyright © Jacob Menefee | Year Posted 2010
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