The Artist

SerenWise

I see myself as a relic,
so poor, so tired. 
Like countless women from another time,
dead in the eyes
offering anything for meagre payment.
I prostitute myself for art,
my body is a canvas
stretched too thin.
I am worn down further
with every boring man I see
who wants to take my photograph. 

I sit on the train and wonder 
if I am destined only ever to be the subject,
of beautiful art
and not its creator. 
Sickly clouds are gathering,
hues of yellow and grey.
The train rattles onwards 
and all I wish to do is paint.
But pigment is scarce…
and my brushes are worn too thin. 

  • Author: SerenWise (Offline Offline)
  • Published: February 3rd, 2019 11:09
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 14
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Neville

    You may be new here, but my word, you are to date enjoyed... Neville

    • SerenWise

      Thanks!

      • Neville

        No problem, my pleasure



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