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.