Her Art.

As her hand moved across the sheet,
She created the man she always wanted,
Putting her dreams on paper for all,
She wanted the world to worship him.

She gave him deep dark eyes,
A mane of hair enviable even by women,
A nose as straight as a string,
A smile to floor with just one look.

In his hand, she gave him a knife,
The dripping blood adding menace to him,
“It’s time to get back to your cell,”
The nurse said taking her art away.

Graciously Yours!

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19 thoughts on “Her Art.”

    1. Thank you so much! πŸ™‚ Their imaginations and fantasies creep us out, but if someone who’s not institutionalized comes up with such a fantasy, we call it art… Ironical, no?

      Liked by 1 person

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