An April poem. Who knew she was an artist? And who knew her greatest work? Reviews are very welcome.
Blood splatters on white porcelain
paint a pretty picture.
I draw my paint
from its source,
swirl the colour
across my canvas.
I spent my life
trying to create a masterpiece.
Never thought
I'd make one
with my death.
Blood splatters on white porcelain
paint a pretty picture