In his head was the world
an ocean of detail
that even Bob Ross
could never handle the brush.

He was the average bob
a minority amongst an epidemic
sandpaper was meant for wood
instead people wore without grain.

Speciality was unknown
as his art did not lack depth
but appreciation by
those who handed him
minimum wages
and a life of struggles.

Some day he stopped
once there was an ocean
the next there was only
muddy puddles
because without clouds
there was never any rain
so the paint dried.