Chaotic gold that lovers value,
Something plastered on the wall,
Beautifully symmetrical or,
Makes no sense at all.
You see frustration but,
Let me tell you what I see,
Lines over lines of dribble,
As if they deviated from reality.
Looking at a blob of paint,
Can you really metaphorically collaborate why the artist put it there?
Some squiggles around some centerpiece,
Does not make sense to me,
No matter how how drawn out your description is of all the meaning you draw from there.
How can emotions run that deep in the emblem that you see?
Is that the author's limbic system portrayed through the lines,
As if all they felt were all a part of some design.
All I see is,
How you take it upon yourself to feel how they felt.
Yes, blame the artist for something you contrived.
Blame the horizon in the sky for cutting deep into your heart.
Frustrate the important swirls that it couldn't live without.
Query on the lines buried in every portrait but, Remember that interpretation comes only from within yourself.
