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Far from a masterpiece
i could have been someone
but so could anyone
these faces, as cruel as they are
were at once canvas
then on with their lives, they painted
scar for scar
and another stroke upon their cheek
and what of crows' feet
the weathered smiles of old
die with their stories untold
and yet another artist will never rest in peace
and what of philosophies
each life a rusted trophy
from the business man
to dear John on the corner
if i was to replay
my life another way
i wouldn't erase a thing
simply have more to say
and die a happy death on my birthday
