Mona Lisa

The pretty girl
 in the painting ,
so beautiful ,
so obscure ,
speaking of
innocent love .
Smiling ,
laughing  ,
happily
 through
 her eyes.
Little does
she realize
that
her future
may be
obliterated ,
erased ,
tarnished ,
through
 sooty , black hands
of
 dirty destiny.
The real reason
for her
 everlasting mood
is not
 the painter's will;
but her own fate.
She feels
stuffy ,
ornamental ,
decorated ,
(like a necktie
on an English Clerk) .
She rambles
to herself
about the
myth
that she creates
despite herself.
-an obscure
quaint
evident smile
always lingers
on her face.
That's how
she lives
wondering
at herself
:'the'
Mona Lisa.