The Portait

"The Portrait"

A rainbow of paint drips down,
Covering the canvas of life,
Like the bleeding heart of a man,
Rebuilding without design.

This is no story,
No fairytale of rhyme,
A chapter from an autobiography,
Of a dreamer lost in time.

Blacks and reds show the pain,
He cries to show, but would die to hide,
Wishing those he knows can decode,
The puzzle that lies inside.

Light blues and yellows, with a touch of orange,
Reveal the hope and hidden smile,
With shielded eyes, he paints his world,
With only his palette and his mind.

And when the day comes, to remove his blinds,
No!
There won't be such a day.
That brush will never paint paradise.

(c)2006 Joe Ruggiero