An Elegy For The Dead Poets

Art is beautiful. It takes many forms, yet all those forms can echo the same message. Humans are Art. We speak. We force them to hear when they do not. We bleed, such as words teach us to. But our ways are not pretty. Our blood is not poetry, it is just pain and red. Our deaths are not numbers, they are lives, they are hopes, and they are remembered. Adding colors to a black and white painting does not erase the painting itself, it never will. Making pain beautiful does not erase our hurt. We can choose what goes on our canvas though. We may not have control over everything, no one ever really does in life. Yet, you can choose the paint you buy and the color there is. You can choose if you want to practice that day. You can choose what you want to make, and you can succeed or fail. Just as art is not pretty or black and white, neither are our choices. Kiera Evans wishes she could disagree.