Hetalia Feels

Art (P)

What is art?
Is it the smile of one
Who has not smiled enough?
Is it the pages of a novel,
Every word contributing to a whole?

Perhaps the world
Is our art.
Art to create...
... art we're destroying.

Music
Is the art of time.
Our skies
Are the artworks
Of our universe.

Art decorates space.
Is that what art is?
Or is there more to it?
...Am I art?

The smile on a friend's face
Is art.
Twinkling laughter
Is art.
Everything
Is art.

Would it be a sin
To destroy art?
But what if this art is not beautiful?
What if it is an art that haunts you,
An art that troubles you?

Is death an art?

I create art,
I admire art,
I listen to art,
I feel the art as I dance,
But is it all of any importance?

Am I of any importance?

The lingering regrets,
The remarks that
I must be insane...

If one must be insane
To appreciate art,
Then I am surely insane!
I will gladly sacrifice my sanity,
My happiness,
My life
For the sake of the art
I love so dearly!

I need to show the world
That art is not useless!
That art breathes life into things,
Takes lives from things!

I can feel my head
Spinningspinningspinning
My mind is
Whirlingwhirlingwhirling
The tune in my head speeds up,
If it were a dance I would be tripping,
Could my collapse still be called art?

I cannot live in a world
In which art is pushed away,
Shoved aside,
And if I cannot get them
To hear my voice
I will make them see.

I will show them the importance of art!
I must!
I am nothing without my art
Nothingnothingnothing
The wind slaps my face,
My heart is
Racingracingracing
There is a glass sculpture in my mind
And it is
Breakingbreakingbreaking.

One slice,
One fissure in a once pristine creation.
Two slices,
It's not enough.

It is not enough to break,
I must take it all the way!
I must
Shattershattershatter
Until I am but shards,
Remains of what once was.

Three slices,
Enough to paint now.
Four,
Just a bit more!
A sculpture of my grief
Painted in this warm life,
What will be a cold death.

Five,
I can feel my heartbeat fading,
But I am not done!
I will be done
When I am shattered,
When my eyes are as glassy
As the pieces littering the floor
Of what was once
Collections of consciousness.

Six,
Seven,
Eight,
Nine,
Ten!

The numbers are useless now.
Meaningless.
As meaningless as the world
Calls my art.
Calls me.

Art once was.
Art still is.
Kugelmugel once was.
Kugelmugel will never again be.

~~~

I'm BACK

Also tired
It takes so much to make the words go
And I don't have much to offer

Betcha thought you'd seen the last of me, eh? Hahahah, nope. Not yet!

I know this kinda sucks, so sorry for a) it's general suckiness and b) the long wait

I have a writing schedule now, hopefully I'll be able to follow up on it. (You have my permission to get on my case if I don't). Some updates may be inconsistent, but these are the days to possibly expect things:

Monday: Sunshine In The Rain
Tuesday: Hetalia Feels
Wednesday: GerIta
Thursday: Drawings from the Heart
Friday: Short stories/Poems
Saturday: Life Advice

Sunday is for my blog and personal projects, as well as a planning day. That's all! Bai~

~Weirdanimewriter out!