May 2016
I strike the canvas with bitter paint
Sink the graphite blade through the innocent White
My charcoal hides the stains
This oil will covers the cuts
Is my painting good enough for you?
Tell me now, while the flames lick my soul
Is my gift still what shames you?
Is that what liberates me still a weakness in your eyes?
I may be able to create untold horrors on empty sheets,
I may be able to draw a journey to the soul,
I may be able to give way to a masterpiece,
But to you, all these colors are what make me less than a man
So I'll splatter the ink
Slice the void
Paint my hell
Because this is Art,
This is Life
Because this is Liberation
Sink the graphite blade through the innocent White
My charcoal hides the stains
This oil will covers the cuts
Is my painting good enough for you?
Tell me now, while the flames lick my soul
Is my gift still what shames you?
Is that what liberates me still a weakness in your eyes?
I may be able to create untold horrors on empty sheets,
I may be able to draw a journey to the soul,
I may be able to give way to a masterpiece,
But to you, all these colors are what make me less than a man
So I'll splatter the ink
Slice the void
Paint my hell
Because this is Art,
This is Life
Because this is Liberation
Often times, individuals have marvelous gifts, whether they be visual arts, musical talents, or gifts that they can't deny. However, they aren't always appreciated by everyone, sometimes not even by a parent who's suppose to love and support their offsprings unconditionally. That however is the sad chapters in the story of life.
