A Real Work of Art

Carefully apply the paint
 Layers and layers
  Of bold dramatic color
   Covering the bland canvas
    Mindful how your hand shakes.

Flipping through material swatches
 Many textures, many hues
  Striving towards perfection
   Resurfacing every flaw
    Mindful of the pain in your head.

Dumping out the flour (or is it sugar)
 Intensely focused on the batter
  The taste, after all, must be perfect
   Taking up cookie cutter and rolling pin
    Mindful of the familiar burning in your nose.

Now the final touch upon your best sculpture
 Sinking your hands into silky black clay
  Not one part of the coiffure can be out of place
   Now you finish patting everything into perfect shape
    Mindful of the heaviness in your heart.
 

Soon--too soon for your liking--
 It is time to reveal
  To present
   Your masterpiece to those in power
    Those whom you must meet their approval.

Approval or disapproval
 It is too soon for you to be able to tell
  They are often so difficult to please
   Demanding to see every nuance, every angle, each feature
    Judging your work with emotionless eyes.

A labour of love and hate combined
 You gave your sculpture everything you had
  Holding back--albeit barely--your pain and despair as you worked
   Careful attention applied to every detail
    Determined to delight and impress those at the top.

With tears in your eyes you hear the familiar refrain begin
 Your cue to publicly present your masterpiece to all
  You feel the beginnings of panic as you start your long walk
   Holding fast to your flailing courage, head held high
    The time has come--it's all or nothing.
 

Whole body shaking as you slowly climb the steps
 The center of attention you are carefully scrutinized
  Your throat goes dry as every eye measures your sculpture
   Every eye on you, your movements purposeful
    Terrified of making a single misstep.

Every step feels like it's on shattered glass, cutting deep
 The music somehow sounds hollow to your ears
  Unchanging, emotionless faces stare at you from the crowd, unmoving
   Every muscle, bone, nerve feels suddenly disjointed
    Raw, blinding panic, threatening to take charge.

Now, he seperates himself from the callous crowd of raucousness
 Walking purposefully towards you
  Obviously impressed by the artwork he studies it up close
   Apparently satisfied, he holds out his offering to you
    Suppressing a shudder when you feel money slide between flesh and fabric.

Attaining more tributes until the music comes to an end
 Retrieving belongings you flee once more to your private place
  Exhaustion in your soul you collapse in the nearest chair
   So many unanswered questions as you stare at this piece you created
    But the mirror mocks you with silence as tears slide down the cheeks of this work of art
            which once was you.