Who she is
And what she feels
With her art
Now she reveals
A disorder maybe so
But clearly she
Goes with the flow

Its her virtuality
Her potentiality
Her heart and soul
Her backbone too
Her mood her spirit
It reigns true
To who she is
And what she must do

To why she does
Such fine art work
She can feel that buzz
Its fundamental
Its arbitrary
More than just mental
She can see

Like an intruder
Within her art
Unrelated for a start
Rootless in so many ways
Untimely and for that
She pays

Dots and patterning
The girl she is
And really why
A hospital in Tokyo
Is where she is
And was told to go

Strange but true
She escapes
To work a new
Facet in her
Life for she
Has red hair
And likes to be

Where she is
Not what they say
Why she is
What she is today

She has her authenticity
With repitition
She can see
A world of how it ought to be
Not the mundane
The antipathy

And contradiction
YAYOI has found her true
In the distinctive
Divergent path
Away with medication and wrath

Its assimilation
Unvarying deranged salvation
Its stimulates
Her reflective view
A vision which for her
Is true

Its her caricature
Her parody
Of what lies now
In front to see
Her own reflection
A paradigm
A consequence
Of her truest time

Spent out of what is medication
Her compensation
It compensates
Her eminence
She surely rates

With dabs and flecks and spots
And grain
And chips and shaving and sun and rain
Meagre subtle rarified
Thus to hide

Her supremacy
Her vantage point
Surpassing all
She doth annoint
Her soverign state
Impacted by
How she dissects
And does apply

Her regularity
And methodology
As such she is a pioneer
Her art work
An attraction clear
Always the dross
Of Tokyo
Of the bleak white light
Where she has to go

Her destiny
That hidden hand
Where really
she can understand

The collateral sense
The obliquity
The beauty
And the harmony
A traveller
To somewhere she
Truthfully now needs
To be

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