Someone
is going to bleed

in this picture.

Someone always does

by the time you reach
the end.

Someone will have bled

by the time
you lay down
your brush;

the red
will be out of control.

It always happens
that way.

Red

everywhere

seeping
through canvas,

spilling
over the banks
of what you intended.

Funny,

the portrait
started out
simple enough

simple lines
simple strokes

Simple.

but once underway,
the center
would not be moved;

the marrow refused
to be excised.

There would be
no chorus of angels

to calm
the sound
of childhood
breaking
under a silver boot;

no artist’s hand
gifted enough

to smooth
the jagged edges
of never again;

no master of finesse

to buff out

the red-stained
fingerprints
on the walls
of your dreams;

So,
you trace
over and over
your self

you want
to erase
the red

the part

that tells

the truth
about truth

the part
that knows
there will always
be red,

no matter how perfect
your golden brush strokes.

Like I said,

Someone always bleeds.

In the end,
someone is always
left lying
on their knees.