It's a bit, umm... big, but if you're in the mood to read it feel free to comment

An empty canvas is exposed
To the eyes of a lonely artist
Who painted masterpieces in vain
Way ahead of mentality
Society called him the devil
The painter of the anti-Christ
His drawings were the apocalypse
He showed wars straightforwardly
He caught thought-waves to guide his path
To do the exact opposite
He challenged men with winds of change
While people hid in screams and riots
Accused to die as a hanged man
Or feel the taste of a guillotine
Without bearing this idea
He designed a true master plan
He shaved his hair and cut his beard
And left with his loyal disciple
Caught a boat to Amsterdam
Left his hated Rome behind
A last gaze to the Colosseum
After his temporary goodbye

In Amsterdam this man observed
A society of libertinage
There were no thought-waves to catch
Everyone rode his own wave
And things that he only saw
In dark Rome’s underground
Were scenes of the day-by-day
Suburbia had formed a city
So he rented a small room
Located in plain Damrak
And he bought a giant canvas
Seven feet high fifteen feet length
In a month it was completed
Without any eye put on it
So he returned to his hated Rome
In a month a few has changed
Now everyone forgot his name
Probably he was proclaimed dead
The saga of his ancient paintings
Was now a saga of the past
With his attainment he created
Expectations for his masterpiece

It was set in Palazzo Chigi
The room couldn’t take one more man
Everyone was stunned with the curtain
Covering a giant board
With no further speech the curtain fell down
Exposing the true masterpiece
The crowd stood in aw for a moment
Contemplating a huge marvel
It was la Piazza del Popolo
And it centered an execution
The guillotine was already down
And the head was on the stage
The blood flowing looked so real
The skies were mixed in grey and black
And then there were the people
The ones that made it look so dreadful
Cause they filled a quarter canvas
Extolling this painting’s grandeur
The people on the back looked joyful
Hands in air and smiles upon faces
But as approaching to the stage
There was simply no joy at all

As approaching to the stage
Happiness turned to despair
People kneeling down and crying
As if asking to God why
Closing in skin started melting
Spilling blood that looked so real
Until all that’s being left
Were skeletons on the front row
The crowd now stood there appalled
And our painter broke the silence
Taking off his upper clothes
And exposing both his wounded arm
Saying the blood there was his
And he was the dead man too
That’s what they wanted to see
But they never had the chance
With no further introduction
That was the painter of the anti-Christ
That was the man who drew his death
As they realized the board came true
When his blood flowed through the stage
And his masterpiece was burned…
Oh thank you. I thought no one would have the patience to read it since it was so long
Blinding. "A last gaze to the Colosseum
After his temporary goodbye" - Tediously amazing! A joy to read and the story just ebbs its way into your head and thought patterns.
Thank you again AngryGoldfish, but I must say that you could PM me, instead of bringing this old piece to the front of these new threads. It'll probably be closed for your information... Not like it's a great deal to me, but it was useless... Nonetheless, I really appreciate that you enjoyed reading it