The Da Vinci Code
He strokes his beard having his notes revered by most his peers,
His focus clear, Da Vinci, Noone's close or near,
Alone, Surrounded by emotional fears that's awoken here
Starin inside the fetus preparin to outline the features
In a timed procedure, The mind of a genius blocked by a kind demeanor,
He motions and quickly leaves, Notes in hand
Stricken with grief, memories hidden deep shows again,
He's missin his sleep, he knows it's within reach to propose a plan
To get relief, he knows he can, Why he doesn't? He don't understand
The complexities of thought, forever bound for rememdies he's sought
But never found, these memories may never be forgot,
Condemned to celibacy he taught himself any pleasure around, heavenly it is not,
So whats he supposed to do? He knows that soon he'll coast on through,
His problems are miniscule, but the critics grow in groups
And allot of em ridicule his clothes and shoes as they're usually worn by those in youth,
His grown into a recluse where only he knows the truth, he blames the envy,
His emotions change from anger to pity as people spout doubt of the supposed dangers of Da Vinci
The homosexual man, the stranger in his city,
Although his peers praised his views, noone was near to care or soothe
Or hear a prayer or two for the despaired old brute
When acusations flew, Without even questioning if they were made of truth,
They want him locked in a cell, throw away the key let him rot in hell,
They go on he's a show off who lost his health
Da Vinci, the man who knows all, yet not himself...
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