PIETA

I painted a smile

On a face that was sad

And hid 'neath a grimace

Disguised as a grin

Though the paint wore thin,

The anger within, not revealed.

The 'pieta' of love

Did not even withstand

One single year,

To oblivion was flung

Like victory turned sour

At the gate of triumph

And the palette, deserted, still bleeds.

It's better to create

Using canvas or stone

For a petrified smile

Will outlast flesh and bone

And all of the memories

In all of the hearts

And all of the minds

In all of the parts

Of the world do not make a 'pieta'.