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A picture paints
I crush a word into a thousand pieces
It created a picture and I ironed its creases
With no one there, it’s not that much
But as people see, it seems to touch
Through the soul and into the mind
The meanings gradually start to unwind
But soon enough, the feeling fades away
But then re-appears yet another day.
As it slowly enters the unconscious head
The victim awakes but from the dead
He moves along and picks a knife
Creeps aside her and kills his wife.
So with what affect did I have
Was it me or was he just mad
Not to worry,it doesn’t matter
The picture painted a far greater factor.
