Poem
They say if you don't use it, you'll lose it.
I search for a canvas as a pianist does for music.
From thrust after thrust, rush after rush,
to my brush's bristles collecting dust.
Procrastination taking over,
as if my life had been over.
Bills come and go like people mourn.
Despite what I go through, life goes on.
As I journey through life, and meet new people,
distractions prey and my craft grow feeble.
Is my gift necessary like Type 1 to a needle?
Or are my talents phases like the life of a Beatle?
God, what is my purpose?
The art of others makes me nervous.
The simple thought makes me earnest.
But where are my paintings? Have I not yet earned it?
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Feelings: Monologue/Poetry Collection
PoetryThese are monologues and poems that are completely random. Just getting my art out there ya know! Please check my profile for similar consistent works. (Currently working on a drafted piece: "Lotus' Story" 1/5 books of my new series: Because It's No...
