I am but a painting in a museum,
my artful eyes call out for you to look closer.
I am but a painting in a museum,
gawked at for my beauty and then when looked at closer,
my flaws appear.
I am but a painting in a museum,
my corners worn down from being dropped, moved, abused.
I am but a painting in a museum,
hung up for display to darting eyes,
admired, questioned, then walked past.
I am but a painting in a museum,
created during a bright, ecstatic moment;
then dulled down by the studio lights.
I am but a painting in a museum,
most wouldn't understand my meaning.
I am abstract, confusing, peculiar.
I am but a painting in a museum,
a 12 year old could have drawn me,
I am all over the place.
I am but a painting in a museum,
I instill curiosity to discover why I was
painted the way I was.
I am but a painting in a museum,
blocked off by velvet rope and untouchable,
only the museum worker and the artist may touch my skin.
