Dorian Grey

Dorian Gray

You do not see the painting in the attic

The maggots on skin that tear.

The beauty is a trick.

Narcissus- promise naught but air.

We see the tan, toned limbs and ignore the truth.

Within the paint, the sickness rots.

The reanimated cadaver behind a facade of youth.

I see it's malice, it's plots.

This thing such as it is, will never know love,

Such a concept it will feign.

You gaze upon the dazzling form and ignore above

The canvas of it's true face smirking at your pain.

Look closer and see what's true.

He sucks out your heart as you lay.

He devours every part that's you.

He is the the picture of Dorian Gray.