A Boy Painted a Picture

A boy painted a picture
And he entitled it ‘love’
It was saturated with red and hearts
And what his dreams had been made of
Red and white and autumn sunsets,
And places to where your heart gives you a shove.
His mother taped it on the refrigerator,
Without looking, told him ‘good job’
And gave him a pat on the head
From above.

A boy drew a picture
And he christened it ‘death’
He penciled in skulls and crossbones
And countenances with no eyes left
Charcoal black and grey and disheartening things
He had not learned the names of yet.
His father brought it to work
To display it to his colleagues
And delivered ‘good job’ with booze
On his breath.

A boy made a collage
And he titled it ‘life’
He cut out pictures of money and a mansion
Didn't forget the beautiful wife.
And green and blue and a big label
And a fancy new convertible to drive.
His best friend said it was good
But he should put down the scissors
And realize just how tough it is
To survive.

A boy painted a picture
Said it was to be called 'to be’
Outlined a cigarette-burned face
Next to a forgotten summer’s skinned knee.
Maroon for agony and ruptured hearts
Dark blue his dysfunctional family
He peered more deeply into the world
And saw that up until then
Most of his artistry
Contained no reality.