Image source: http://www.wallpino.com/paintings/an-old-inn-by-the-river-111779.html
Shadows on a misty hill
This is as dramatic of a start as one can instill
The shadows are lurking still
Looking to be filled
Bloody awful he said and filled it to the brim
Next to him a man walked with a limp
Chimpanzee without a doubt he yelled
Undeniably the greatest painter who ever lived
On the receiving end he pulled himself up
Stuck to his old ways, restrained and pained
With a cane in his hand, he owned land
You must understand the hand he was dealt
Namely himself and his hollow heart
Waiting, patiently waiting to be filled
To be lived and killed, distilled
Was his blood, immersed in the background
He couldn’t let go, oh no. For You to know
Laughing reminiscent of the days laid before him
Dancing with death and life, forever at strife
Watching himself, left to bite his tongue
Songs unsung, hung from the skies full of lies
Oh my, the time has gone by, vile labyrinth
Of filth and dusk, go if You must, I still lust
For the rust on the cusp just not so robust
Ian Altosaar
