She’d studied art.
But she hated
the writer who
wrote the protagonist
she loved.

She claimed
to understand
But she whined when
life dipped
that gave her much
needed thrust.

She herself could
be an art.
But she was too
busy correcting her
flaws that made her

She who was
destined to be
an artist knew
nothing about art
called love.

Self love.

– Natalie Ruka

3 thoughts on “ART

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