Portrait.

He takes his sweet time
the picture must be perfection
Only the most beautiful
Are allowed in his collection.

Whites and blacks and reds
define my morbid pose
all my flaws are erased
only beauty shows.

He paints my eye's with sadness
that my heart does feel
Even tho I'm just a picture
these emotions are very real.

My body is like a corpse
so cold and very frail
there's no color in my cheeks
my skin is way too pale.

My hair hangs down so limp
framing my pretty face
Red lips, to tell my lies
he finishes with grace.

His masterpiece is done
He drew exactly what he saw
he drew my gloomy portrait
without a single flaw.

If only everyone could paint
then maybe they could see
that beauty is deceiving
and there's really more to me.