The Devil's canvas

We're often blinded of our true important self by the simple temporary desires

You wish to be an art
Adored by your master
Oh! What have you made of yourself?
Stained by the devils brush
Cherishing the short moment of thrill
The thrill of being stroke

You knew he paints you with blood
Yet you accepts every stroke, every brush
You filthy thing, horrid horrible existence
Ashamed aren't you?

You could have been a magestic art
Admired by millions, priceless,
Oh! What have you made of yourself?
You know you are nothing without your naster
You were wanted, needed,
Why would you choose to be the devil's canvas

Reviews

[Curly Grace]

This is a striking piece. The metaphor of becoming the devil’s canvas is powerful, and the self‑confrontation hits hard. You captured that tension between what we desire and what it costs us. Well written.

[Saibung]

Thank you,
It meant a lot you felt the conflict and tension I try to express, that tension between longing and cost is exactly what inspired this piece