Poem -

Sinful Art

Sinful Art

Visioning the world,
A blank canvas appears,
Filled with White clouds, blue sky...
"Too typical... disgusting. "
My brush pointed my in hand,
Self pride takes control.

I imagine my life,
I see a droplet, black paint.
Splashing, oozing, running...
And I feel a hint of relief. 
Gliding the brush across,
A trickle, lustful desire,
"Fill me with more... "

When I reflect on my choices,
The black paint swirls,
Curling, changing, shaping,
Imagery is forming.
A silhouette...but of what?
Slowly becoming a glutton, overfeeding...

Desperation for gains,
Satisfaction not yet obtained. 
Until the hands of its master,
Obtains all of its essence.
Avaricious greed, 
Tingling, it's almost complete.

The paint runs dry,
Staring with satisfaction, yet...
My heart aches, clinching,
Clawing my chest... Realizing,
Its beauty, something I knew,
I could never have... 
Envious? me? Of a painting..?

Averting to the painting,
Eyes of cold ice,
A storm is unleashed.
Shards fly,
Broken wood, holes, tears...
It's blood dripping down.
The wrath of a beast,
Uncaged and untamed...

Screams rage out,
Tears flood down,
Sorrow wails. Then...
A body neglecting to work.
No life...no energy.
A sloth incarnate,
A soul wishing eternal rest.

The ultimate evil...
A horrifying monster born,
Whose sins crawled Upon it, 
It's back Burning... Searing... 
Shall retribution be made?
I shall reflect on all 7 sins,
For now...I'll accept what I've become...

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Dmitri Rudder

The most sincere and real reflection we have in ourselves is the ability to find and feel and take revenge on what we are. It is better to ponder on yourself than to annihilate all who have made you into what you are. And more so to know that no matter what we do, we will never be more than that which we have put into the hands of those who know us...