Is this what it's like to be a poet?
To taste every goodbye, to feel every moment?
To feel every detail, to see every flaw?
To kiss every star as the night starts to fall
To fall in love with the way the sunsets
To dream of the birds from dusk to dawn

Is this what it's like to be a painter?
To find it captivating the way the earth moves
Mesmerized by your very own torment
Never caring if anyone else approves
Ingenious, stamped across your forehead

Is this what it's like to be an artist?
To find beauty in the pain that transcends
From the demonized garden growing within?
To find something alluring in the way
*People walk away

I look, it'll never be.
My thoughts tell me...it'll never be.
I know, it'll never be.
It's so perfect, the shades, the angles and the sounds.
I look, your a disappointment.
My thoughts tell me...your a disappointment.
I know, I'm a disappointment.
Go away.