He paints on his boat ride through the dark green forest

January 25, 2014
I am the elements of your painting
I'm the oil drying slowly
the ripped canvas you continuously splatter
shades of crimson on
shades of exhaustion and black tops
You address me as Mona
but they saw Lisa
I'm not your exhibit
I don't belong in framed cases
I'm not valuable
I'm just gold, gold, gold





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