Oil Painting with Anger

She can’t balance a fruit,
Upon her head,
Nor a monkey
But why does she try?
She’s weeping tears
cool as metal,
deprived of her anger towards him.
When the smoke from her eyes
Does clear.
She stains her hand with oil
And slams it upon a
Blank canvas
Clawing her image to life.
Once she’s done
She steps back,
Lets her frustration fizzle,
Gazes upon her creation; her child,
And prays that it’s not about him.





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