Masterpiece
Sinking
Into myself
My comfort zone is dark
I create art.
With patterns of blood across my skin.
Critics say it’s depressing
Lonely
Sad
As is my heart
My soul
Cold.
I wonder if this will sell?
The river is black with poison
The pool marvelous shades of red.
Through my lips, the tears are salty
As are my wounds
That burn
Like fire.
Deeper I go
Into the darker corners
Of my mind
Twisting and turning
Even I don’t know
What’s next
Critics call it lunacy
However originality cannot be sane
I call it passion
Obsession
Connection
With the art
It is my life
My death.
Splattering the canvas
A darker shade of red
Oblivious to everything but
My work
I marvel at my creativity,
I’ve come so far
But I’ve gone nowhere.
Depressed
Distressed
An artist nonetheless
The song is sung
The drum stopped beating
Critics said it was too loud anyway.
Scary
Distant
I’m limp and cold
A masterpiece at last
Sold.
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