Dilapidated, by Amory McKeever

She sat down at the easel
with a brush of imagination
Turned out a grand cathedral
the inheritance for her enation
If love was a magnum opus
given away without restraint
with patience and understanding
she would be the patron saint

Well, since this wasn't our canvas
it could never be our masterpiece
Couldn't stand what we were handed
that slowly drove us into madness
Then like such a little hellion
we took all of her paint
and in a moment of rebellion
turned those colors into pain

A splash of yellow here and there
green and blue with orange medallions
such happy snow capped mountains
explored by daft rapscallions
who never seem impressed
so we took all of her paint
and in a moment of protest
turned those colors into pain

We couldn't cover it in black
though we've tried a million years
So we go on the attack
and prove the truth of all our fears
Then during that haunted lunacy
we took all of her paint
and in a moment of mutiny
turned those colors into pain

There was no lack of splendor
on this work of alla prima
It just needed a defender
not some small conceited divas
with the most selfish of reasons
we took all of her paint
and in a moment of treason
turned those colors into pain

She sat down at the easel
to see what became of her foundation
That church burned down in the upheaval
the squandered estate of her creations
If forgiveness was a magnum opus
given away without complaint
with patience and understanding
she would be the patron saint

*image/painting by Yuumei*