Sketch

Charcoal scattered around the table

a canvas stands by the artist’s chair

He helds in his hand a picture of a girl

a smiling woman without fear.

 

As lines scattered along the canvas

shades of black and white invaded the white space

a smile was drawn from the frowning face saying

“A flower perfectly matches your name”

 

Darkness overruled the disheveled hair

Of the girl whom he ever thought.

Her eyes sparkle in the white canvas

and like imperfect stars, her teeth dazzle with the smile

 

The artist had knew she is beautiful.

He had created an obra maestra!

But then a thought came to him.

“This is not her. She is not real”

 

The artist tore his canvas apart

He punched through the thin white linen

Cut the threads and break the wooden frame

And burned every part of the masterpiece 

 

This is not the beauty he saw.

It is not the beauty he wants to portray

For no artist could ever show

The beauty inside her skin.

 

 

 

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