E is for Elizabeth

All you are is a painted image

Staring out of a picture frame

Your eyes have to power to mesmerize viewers

You’re just a memory, a ghost

An ideal stripped of humanity

A family obligation, refusing to rest in peace

Your bodies still wanders, immortal, craving blood

It’s left you behind along with the life you knew

You see closure through your descendents

Bending them to your will, shaping them into your instruments

You try not to get too attached to them 

Try not to let them irritate you too much

Yes, they have secrets, they plot against you

All the while swearing devotion to you

Just what are they devoted to?

The image you created, the legend which sprung from it?

Reinforced by paint and paper

Your ambition exceeded your flesh’s limitations

Thus your flesh was transformed

Your soul trapped in canvas

Your one chance at life may be through your descendents

They’re a different immortality than what you sought

Could they be any more disappointing than this state? 

Your chosen eternity turned into your prison

You’re an empty vessel accompanied by an empty legend

Waiting in desperation to be filled

A Portrait Is Worth a Thousand Words

Your painted image is proof of your hollow glory. 

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