Painful Creations

Why is it that when we are so hurt we when can create the most beautiful masterpieces? How we dream of being happy but find complacencies and deny, even ignore a need for an outlet? Perhaps, I have never experienced a true level of pure bliss A level where talent streams out of me birthing a prized gem I am so thankful for my creative escape, away from suffering But I must admit it is ironic; that it pours out of me in my most emotionally agonizing moments I can only imagine, the amazing days when joy can have a volcanic effect of bubbling and oozing shooting up with a delight that streams off my pen to the paper To physically be beaming as I create and compose my inner euphoria in a paradisiacal state of mind What heavenly words would my lips express through the incandescent smile fixed upon my overjoyed face? With tears of elation gushing down my cheeks, splattering on my paper, in place of the too familiar brokenhearted current ones Would they taste different? Perhaps my taste buds would savor the flavor of prosperity So much sweeter than the salty ones I'm used to One day I hope to know I long to know how a full, adored heart feels in my chest as it beats I bet it is much different than the empty, shallow flicker I wonder if a rhythm of the pulse, with a healed heart sounds cheerful? Like a favorite song that happily gets stuck in your head I think it must sound loud and proud as if it wanted to show off how whole, completely filled with enthusiasm for daily life it is! Yet for now, I can only pretend to know I will keep imagining, trying to harness it Until I am there Then I will know with out question