I Artist
It's lonely on this hill
The one I chose to die on
A bitter breeze
And my skin turns to sand
Dancing far away
Strip the clothes off my back
Make a staircase
With all that I create
It'll never reach the gates of Heaven
But it would be so easy
To fall backwards
Into the pits of Hell
But I will keep myself
There are no chains that can hold me
Every line I rhymed
Every song I sang
Every single tear I shed
I did it to find out who I was
But I realized
Each poem was like a snapshot
Assemble them like puzzle pieces
And that is who I am
I am not the embodiment of perfection
But I am me
And nobody else can take that from me
You can take my possessions
You can take my obsessions
You can even take my confessions
But you will never take my passion
In criminal fashion
So if I am to die on this hill
Know I will die on this lonely hill
But I will die knowing one thing
I am an artist
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