Little Black Spot

A masterpiece you made
In the silent sea of darkness.
The pigments and the page
Conspired with you
To make a symphony of light
To end the night
And put your heart into something
You could hold and love.
With your steady hands
You drew the land
You made me who I am.
Something that I still don’t understand.
If you’re a perfect painter, why am I flawed?
If your inspiration’s pure, and you are God
Then why am I here
Beaten up, shedding tears
Wishing you had never put me here?
Why does it seem like your painting is made of dots
And that in your masterpiece I’m a little black spot.
Not fitting in with the other dots?
Did you put it there, or did I?
Did you let me paint on your perfect sky
With my amateur hands
Make my mark on your land?
Why am I so dark?
Is this just who I am?
Is this your grand plan,
Making me with this malady
And adding me in to this scene
That I’ll never match?
Now all I see is black.
What happened to the happy shades?
All I see are shadows and smoke!
Who broke your picture?
Is everything lost?
Is it my fault
For being who I am?
Is there a rescue plan
Hidden in the painter’s hand?
Or am I doomed to die
In the shadow land?

© 2017 Kate Richardson All Rights Reserved


Enjoyed Little Black Spot? You might also like:

The Lonely Road

Where Shadows Sleep



2 thoughts on “Little Black Spot

  1. Pingback: The Lonely Road – Reflection Cube

  2. Pingback: Where Shadows Sleep – Reflection Cube

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