A Flaw In Masterpiece
I was born under a small roof,
With a large heart.
Born to paint a masterpiece,
A masterpiece that would define me,not just a piece of art.
There were no second chances,
No mistakes would be forgotten.
Even a gentle stroke of brush on the canvas
Would stay there even when your bones would be rotten.
Not everyone was as lucky as me though,
The world is cruel, the weak it hushes.
Very often I saw burnt canvases,
And broken brushes.
And as one paints,
The world stares.
The palette was mine,
The color theirs.
With indifference to my expressions,
Scanning for my flaws.
I knew they wouldn't accept me
For what I really was.
Tired of them whispering behind my back,
I tried to close my ears.
As I wetted the dry paint
With my tears.
I made mistakes I admit.
In my masterpiece now some flaws could be traced.
The deeper I tried to bury them,
The more they surfaced.
I painted till my last breath,
It was never supposed to be completed.
The brush suddenly fell off my lifeless fingers,
My heart had shrunk now,it never got the love it needed.
The masterpiece still hangs out there in the open,
So that it's peace the world could barge.
I don't know if the roof was so small
Or my heart too large.