Art

Always awake, Always alert - Ignoring every bit of hurt. Feeling all the mortal pains Caused by all my mortal ways; It's always more than I can take. Make it stop, please, for my sake. For goodness' sake. For anyone's sake. Goddammit, this isn't a poem anymore. It's a blatant cry for help, and a message: Don't wait for an artist to ask. An artist paints, Draws, Sketches, Writes the pain - And not the pains of yesterday, But everyday. Pretty colours are demons, Lines are marching warriors, And they can only be won when we Stop seeing their wars as dollar signs In home collections And start recognising that every hue And every shape is something a Bleeding heart has made. Not for me, not for you, But as a monument to all they've ever Fought through.