I bought a painting today, Hope my parents don’t throw a fit, It’s quite beautiful I have to say, But others don’t see it how I see it.
There’s one thing I cannot tell, Everyone says the painting is lovely, It’s looks it’s voice it’s smell, But they would still say it’s ugly.
Why? I would always ask With a frown on my face, Could loving this painting be such a task? But that’s when I came up to pace.
For it was not the painting, That was causing them trouble, But the picture frame they were creating, That was inducing the struggle.
You see a person is a painting, We all see the same image, Whether it be ugly or appealing, It’s the same by the finish.
The frame is more than a frame, It is the memories you share, And what you think when you hear their name. Frames make people hard to compare.
It is the frame that changes the painting, A frame may ruin or perfect the picture Making it undesirable or dainting, But nobody sees a painting in the same fixture.