Mercy

Oh woe my friend for can't you see
this work of art laid forth
the beauty of the colors bright
cannot you see their worth?

As each and every hue I strove
to make this wondrous thing.
But all for naught it all must be
No yield can e're it bring.

The field so white a burning page
a canvas clean and pure
This thing I've done, the race I've run
what is all this for?

For perseverance, speed and gain
I've liad it all on sheet
But as I've left the quill in dock
I feel that I've been beat.

Don't get me wrong, the victory mine,
I've done it for myself
but world would not in future days
gaze upon the shelf.

So while I've lost somehow I've won
for nothing here can taint.
I've made a work that cannot be
of faded and peeling paint.

The jokes on you for what may seem
the wretched bane of this
The play lives on inside my mind
untainted by your fist.

So here is goes I'm leaving this
I put it down so slow
For mercy is the way within
I here must let it go.

Goodbye my sweet, I bid farewell
This life for you must end
I love you so, I always will,
but to mercy must I tend.

I'll do it soft, long hard strokes,
just close your eyes and breathe
for I could not leave you here to stay,
through death you'll be set free.

It's over now, I've done my deed.
My love exists no more
But deep inside you'll never see,
The shrine I've built for her.

I saved her from this life so cruel,
by taking her inside.
The work of art that was her face,
spared both of our pride.

I put the weapon down so slow,
it weightless in my hand.
The dust it falls as skittles do,
the post-war view just grand.

Don't worry now, its clean as snow.
I've cleaned it up so nice.
No one will know the deed I've done,
The death must be the price.

There is no guilt, just slight regret,
as I leave that canvas clean.
She's gone, it's done, it cannot change,
I'll just dwell on what has been.

Okay, despite what you guys may be thinking right now, This poem is about a dry-erase mural. I know you were thinking about the murder of a lover and all of that jazz but it still applies right? Read it again closely this time. You can't ignore the allusion to art...sometimes not even an allusion at all. It is an inevitable end but there is something in you that needs to put it down yourself. You could leave it for others to see but you wouldn't want the art to be desecrated so, being helpless, you must destroy that beautiful work that you have made to spare it the cruelty. I thought it was interesting to put it into a person kind of context and thought it astoundingly morbid but so relevant. So Andrew, I guess I did write about love in a warped and twisted sense. There are things that give you the cue without this explanation: Long hard strokes with a weightless weapon (usually a weapon would feel heavy in your hand). This is descriptive of me erasing the work of art. The skittle dust is pretty self-explanatory. Read it again, and try to feel the emotion as I have to destroy this work of art just after I have finished it because I know that it cannot last. So out of mercy I let its last moment be in its best state and I am the only one that truly got to behold it.