I stare at the picture silent
Her words invading my mind defiant
I trace the edge of her bleeding eyes
Noting how she spills no lies
Such an open picture
Holding a bloody pitcher
Such an open face
A vision of elegance and grace
She turns her back to the Raven
Hopes to find a safe haven
Her body is cloaked in black
Her eyes are covered, her jaw slightly slack
The area around her is covered in ice
It coverers the world like full grown lice
Leaving the back ground dead
The words that are left unsaid
But do we see everything
Or do we miss a small something?
Do we notice the Raven’s expression?
Or do we need to make a confession?
We can judge art so easily
But we do so for people too, it’s just silly
We judge before we see the contents of the pitcher
We judge before we see the entire picture
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