What’s Wrong with this Picture?

I once painted a picture

which was perfect in my eyes

But the picture started fading

losing signs of better times

With age the paint chipped away

and the colors weren’t as bright

but I treasured it the same ‘cuz it’s dullness still showed light

So what’s wrong with this picture?

How did I miss the transition?

How did I expect perfection

when I’d neglect my suspicion?

‘Cuz I knew it would get faded

but I ain’t keep up the maintenance

I pretended it was alright so the change came overnight

So what’s wrong with this picture?

When the hell did the paint fade?

When’d the work of art I painted with my blood become a stain?

My sweat and tears just smear the paint

The scenary’s not quite as quaint

The details seem more and more faint

I’m tainted by this problem’s hate

But when I paint portraits of pain

I love them just the same

And hating a picture that fades

won’t make it new again

I blame myself for wanting more,

more then I’m willing to give

‘cuz a pictures just reflection and you get what you put in

So I’ll touch up some of the hues

Mix new colors on a palet

Get a new frame for a masterpiece

Be proud of it and mount it

-Trinity Blaze (age 19)

Written June 11, 2004

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