Egon Schiele, A tribute to my favorite painter

The paper has grown old,

but not the face scteched upon,

The look has still so much rage,

Emotions love and hate,

Curls upon her blue eyes,

resembling thousands of waves!

She is there not proud, just mad,

Her back no longer stays straight,

She is tired of showing respect,

A step back she wants to fight,

Her body is hers to please,

So her large red nipples she can touch,

and her big bush between her large thights!

She is a protest standing with her soul out,

Her flesh is strong just as her heart,

Her chicks are not rouge from shame,

Her blood is flowing to her head,

Those lips you linger are meant to speak,

The naked truth just like her bare skin!