Fall From Grace

I want you gone.
Forgiveness is not real.
As you disappear.
You'll never know just how I feel.

As I erase you from my memory.
I let your face fall from my past.
This oil paintings gone now.
They never really last.

An accomplished painter.
Is what I've become.
But, with the selling of each picture.
My feelings all go numb.

Selling pieces of my past.
All the ones I've painted.
As I lose more of myself.
My paintings become tainted.

So this will be my end.
My gift that is my curse.
What will be my last one?
Perhaps a painting of a hearse...

All I wanted was to be the best.
And the best I'm surely not.
For there are those far better.
Than a hopeless dying sot.

My last painting will be the best.
Of a poor mans lifeless face.
Eyes shut tight with no feeling.
I'll name it "Fall From Grace"