After the blade had been taken
the creature is left shaken
alone within a puddle of blood
with the reflection of what once stood
each thought allowed to breathe
within a world to over see
those that pass by scald the creature
judgements can be torture.
I wrote the above poem in response to the image. I viewed the image as a creature without a scalp sitting upon a puddle. Which as I wrote the poem became a puddle of it’s own blood reflecting back a broken image of itself. I often think of my drawings as a sort of inkblot type of art in which is up to interpretation and each person can perceive it in their own way.
Thanks for reading.