When the soul of an artist
Rips apart
Never will they embrace insanity

Simply
They extend the wound
To the depth
Scratch it daily to make it raw
Poke it often to keep it fresh
Let it bleed
And feel the pain
They repeat the cycle
And get addicted to it

And at the right time
They blend it vividly
Nurturing it with memory
Crafting with precision
To the abstract, from the scrap
Giving life to it
As a reminder
Still
Sincerely admire from afar
And reflect
A light of their own

And so much more....