With a mouth that only breathe lies
And hypocritical eyes that sees
But chooses to be blind
She possesses the grace of a painter
Manipulating the world in grey
But dotes on herself with impressive colours
let my words be the picture embracing her features
Beautifully deceptive; a charming woman; two faced sister; a sheep as a wife; a daughter that disappoints and a failure as a mother.
Nonetheless she is weakened
Sold so much of her strengths
To the wrong buyers and a price that does her no justice
An art she never fails to meliorate,
I'd gladly name
'A befitting Fault'
Foolish as she is loving
My Darling painter,
You're almost, just as bad as the man you married.
I wrote this, admittedly, thinking of my dearest mother.