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The canvas begins blank
Parent’s hands add the first traces
The masterpiece gains form
First thoughts, experiences, and sights
Are mirrored on the canvas’s surface
The masterpiece gains depth
Outside hands connect the lines
Eyes now peer back at those looking in
The masterpiece gains identity
The true artist’s hand emerges
Skillfully, the portrait is at last finished
The masterpiece gains definition
Colors fade and lines blur
But spectators have never given more notice
The masterpiece gains a place in history
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We're nothing like God. Not only do we have limited powers, but sometimes we're driven to become the devil himself.
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