Picture

There was a picture right next to my door,
Painted with red and orange like anger was its creator,
It would watch me,
I would watch it,
At night it would stare like I was its next victim,
My picture always moved,
One day there ,
The next day through,
My picture had a face ,
It was twisted in hate and disgrace,
My picture had its flaws,
But it was beautiful with its cause,
My picture was a boy,
He held a knife and a crimson stained sword,
My picture he kept me safe,
My picture was my secret escape.
My picture hid my insanity away.