What is art?
Well, I can tell you one thing
The words they place in our mouths
And the forced-hand brushstrokes
They are certainly not
What is the point
Of leaving the paints
If the hand guiding the brush is caged?
What is the point of white words
Of pretty language just to please?
Why, pray tell
Are we fettered, when we could
Let colours brighten the skies?
Why do you build dams
In the heads of those artists
Who have no choice
But to comply?
What is art?
Let the colours run free
Let the words spill like gold
Let the feelings you've forgotten
Or left behind consume you
Engrave it
Your memories, your feelings
Your heart
In words, in pictures
Even in the secrets of the stars
Break your chains
And then paint them yourself
For freedom is an art, too
---
Thank you for reading.
The original poem's source can be found in the comments.
YOU ARE READING
Responses to Poems
PoetryThese are my responses to poems written by Instagram user @aviation_165 . You don't have to read them, or leave any forms of likes or comments. I will link each of the original poems' posts under each chapter. Please follow and like and comment unde...
