I was empty when I started
Tried to find a remedy
Really I was pretentiously
Fighting my inner artist.
Heartless...
Is that really what they think of me?
I was on the brink of the
Fate of many martyrs.
And for starters...
I had no clue what to do.
I entrapped myself in seclusion.
Time alone
To reformulated,
To re-braid my DNA,
My motives.
I tried to wriggle to the light.
I jabbed, thrusted, fought.
Just to get a glimpse of myself.
The new me.
Remedy.
But I couldn't.
I was stuck in my mind.
And I was going crazy
No way to get away from the
Torment that was containing me.
So I wrote...
I became the artist
That I always wanted to be.
I injected my pain infused art,
Meticulously,
On the sandpaper canvas
That was my life.
Holding me deep in vacancy.
That, was my nightmare.
And then I broke out.
I simply... woke up.
So I learned how to dream.