As many artists say,
They have one thing in common.
They try to live to the fullest moment.
By that, they live in their own agony.
They let themselves almost get killed
By their own art just to get the voices out.
Critics leaving voicemails of death threats
under the beds in their heads.
Following a spiral stairwell down to hell.
Getting Inspired by the worst current events.
The artist never let themselves think.
Thinking might just let them sink underneath
their dreams,
Feeling unheard.

For a painter,
they just throw ink and splatter paint
onto a canvas full of bright and dark colors.

For a rapper,
they rap in rhymes and rhythm
full of realism.
They’re not just trying to be a spokesman,
they’re just a broken person carrying a mic
full of mistaken burdens over a mountain.
Leading them in a journey for Hope.

Poets and writers are rotten in a mental prison
with a journal filled with poems and written chapters
they write while they fight and ****
the devil with a pencil in their mind
throughout the night.

Actors actin’
on a part that they don’t even recognize,
But they can entertain an audience with a smile
and a good show.
Their whole life is a stage to them.
Even when curtains close,
you never know the real them
because they’re going with the flow,
playing their parts.

Without using our tragedy as art to tell stories
Is like saying a painter with no paintbrush,
canvas or paint color.
A rapper with no beat, rhythm or rhyme.
Getting lost in the path of no hope.
A writer with no crow and no Idea what to write.
It’s just pointless without a pencil and no demons to fight.
An actor not knowing how to act in their part
of a bitter situation.

How can I use art to stitch up
my heart with a thread that would soon fall again?
How can I be the artist if I can’t be a realist
and speak my mouth out with the hardest subjects
and darkest moments
that will soon have the crooked man ******
me in my sleep?