The First Impressionist

The first impressionist

A guess

As to how I will be perceived

Me

What I am

And what lands

Against life’s canvas

But the truth is



The joker made joke

Because I choke

On any reason of mine

And become the punch line

My smile a tool

That makes me look like a fool

I am made jester

Laughter not treasured



The power… I cower

Neither now nor any hour

Do I rule or decide

I’m waiting on death to die

Thunderstruck

And I’m caught up

Being a slave

Everyday



The artist made picture

And I’m not any richer

A picture worth a thousand words

Millions meant nothing to the pretty girl

Siren’s song sung

I should have run

As for today

I’m not even part of the play



The player being played

Not making love or laid

Chivalrous

Yet Cupid missed

Nice guys finish last

Both good and bad

Which am I to be?

She never did see



The lover made other

Not man but beast, girls shudder

I’ve been in love, at least I think

As the song goes “love stinks”

And yet the funk

Makes me a punk

Because I can’t help myself

And so I want to be somebody else



An impressionist

A guess

As to what I should be

If more than me

Because the first impression

Is always the wrong direction

This impressionist

The truth is…



Copyright © 2011, Will A. Bradford Jr. All rights reserved.