I will draw me

I am a murderer.

Last night a man died of a heart attack

He's gone and never coming back.

‘How can you think you murdered him?’ I hear you cry.

Sit down and I will tell you why.

His wife wanted a portrait of her husband so dear.

I wish I had never let them near.

I drew him with my pencil and added colour with oil paint

He was a good man, almost a saint.

He died the next day. Just like the other men I drew.

And a woman before that. I swear it’s true.

Now I pick up my murderous pencil one more time.

I am drawing the lines of my face and my emerald eyes

What comes next is of no surprise

I drew them all and they died within a day

Please stop crying. I am a killer. It is the only way.

I miss my father. He was my guide.

If I hadn’t drawn his portrait, he would be by my side.

I draw my ruffled hair and the bags under my eyes

I am ready for my demise.

Now it is done. The portrait is complete.

I need to go to sleep.

I wait for death to take me away

If it is ok, I would rather you didn’t stay.

Sweet death, save the world from my murderous ways.

Sunrise is here. I failed.