Poetry

Portrait

Paint a picture
Filled with solidarity and lies
That hangs seeping in guilt
As you watch the disappointment dripping from
The frame that isn't even gold.
The closest that will get to gold is cheap
Like Iron Pyrate maybe
Or shiny copper.
The gait in the frame is all wrong:
Sat upright. No slouching.
Showing what is meant to be power.
The power of fooling people
That they are living a life of joy
And greatness doing whatever they do.
But that just hangs in a portrait.