His paints were mixed with passion
His brush was truly blest
His love for me unfolded
as it gently stroked my breast
He put me near the window
So I could shower in the light
In my crudeness he would watch me
Every Morning noon and night.
I felt a sense of confidence
as his eyes would beam delight
Each day his hand would stroke me
Till i was perfect and just right
I sat there on his easel
He admired me with conceit
He would ask his frequent visitors
Was there a woman more complete
Then one day arrived a baron
In search of something new
He picked up several pieces
put a price on my head too
My master reluctantly accepted
shed a tear to see me leave
I was taken to a mansion
and hung by a nail to grieve
In a room thats full of women
battered, beautiful and tall
What was once my creators masterpiece
Is now just another painting on the barons wall.
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