Hey work, tell me something

Why so out of proportion?

Why so… Unrealistic, shit?

It stares back with wonky eyes,

Ask the muse, not me,

That’s what it says.

So I ask my muse; which laughs.

It’s not me, it mocks,

Nor is it your work,

And it’s not your paintbrush,

So it must be you!

And those base words,

They’re enough,

Enough for me to snap

All of my brushes,

All of my pencils.