My art
is not about me
but the images I speak,
about the pictures
I paint of the sea
or the many night skies
that you see
about the people
I described
and the words
that I've combined
and soon you'll find
that the meaning behind
my art
is not about me
but what you seek

it's this fear
this kind of dread
that things are bound
to go wrong.
cause it's been
going good
for way too long.
surely
it's about time
I take the misery
that everyone else has been feeling
and make it mine

And they came to me
and asked
"Is this
what you imagined?"
And I said
"Yes.
But only in my nightmares"

step by step
getting closer
steadily
slowly
until there's another step
and stepping stone
in my way

do you see your face
between the lines?
do you recognise the person
i try to describe?
have you realised
that it’s all about you?
have you noticed
you’re bleeding through
my heart
onto the paper
into everything i write

he was a hero
a soldier
protector of lands
or so we thought
he was a villain
a tyrant
destroyer of all
who’d been planning his downfall
from the very start
determined to fool us
to make us a part
of his twisted plans
his torturous acts
and we let him.
and we complied.
we were the heroes
the soldiers
protectors of land
but we became
the villains
the tyrants
the bad guys instead.