Masterpiece

Sinking Into myself My comfort zone is dark I create art. With patterns of blood across my skin. Critics say it’s depressing Lonely Sad As is my heart My soul Cold. I wonder if this will sell? The river is black with poison The pool marvelous shades of red. Through my lips, the tears are salty As are my wounds That burn Like fire. Deeper I go Into the darker corners Of my mind Twisting and turning Even I don’t know What’s next Critics call it lunacy However originality cannot be sane I call it passion Obsession Connection With the art It is my life My death. Splattering the canvas A darker shade of red Oblivious to everything but My work I marvel at my creativity, I’ve come so far But I’ve gone nowhere. Depressed Distressed An artist nonetheless The song is sung The drum stopped beating Critics said it was too loud anyway. Scary Distant I’m limp and cold A masterpiece at last Sold.