Member-only story
The Lost Art
A Poem
where do you find your art?
is it waiting where you look for it
in the easiest places,
those areas that are most accessible
for the here and now (the here and now)?
or do you have to fight for it,
look for it even when others tell you NO —
when all the naysayers are on a hill,
looking down on you and judging
from their beds of ease and circumstance?
i’ve been told a thousand times
what i can’t do
i’ve been told a thousand times
what i can’t do
and for what?
for what purpose?
i’m so tired of living in a world
that tells me NO at every turn,
leaving me decrepit on the floor
as i bleed for art that i know
would fly up above if only i knew how
(if only i knew how)
will i chase a thousand tales
only to show up at your doorstep,
battered and bruised,
tired from a lifetime of sorrows —
all for some chance of happy endings?
