• Beauty oh endless beauty,
    oh how it has struck me.

    With a final breath,
    every more a nearing step,
    I realize it's only a painting,
    constantly out of my reach.

    I'm content to just stare,
    as the paint starts to peel,
    suddenly a sudden feeling of fear has claimed me.

    This painting,
    slowly ruined by time,
    has gone greasy,
    and covered with grime.

    I looked to my left,
    then to my right,
    stealing one more glance at the painting,
    I tucked it under my arm,
    and took flight.

    I made it just outside,
    soon I had been tackled down,
    the police had just arrived.

    "Why sir, why would you steal this painting."
    They asked me,
    throwing me into the squad car,
    "Because that painting happens to be,
    the last image of beauty,
    left in my world,
    and I won't allow it to die."

    I watched as they took the painting from my limp arms,
    they pulled me away,
    farther away from that image of beauty.

    I finally was released,
    no longer held by my crime,
    my heart ached,
    so much time,
    had been spent away from the splendor of that art.

    I found it once again,
    but it had been tainted,
    forever gone,
    my heart broke at that moment,
    forever unable to mend.

    I left,
    that image of beauty,
    in my shattered heart,
    the one true image,
    never to part.