Poems

#1 The Painter

She's patient and good to paint,

But in the end, it's jealousy and hate.

Her paintbrush moves fast across the head,

And did I say that her favorite color is red?

She sells her picture to her neighbor,

The picture.

The picture that she added with her special mixture,

The buyer was happy, the painter had a crooked smile.

Little did the neighbor know that one of her paintbrushes was a knife,

and the special mixture was the neighbors wife.

Indeed the painter killed its wife,

Jealous of her life.

The Painter used her as paint,

The blood that was dripping down her head,

But now she lays somewhere in the painters basement dead.