Writers,
poets,
artists,
songwriters
bleed pain into art.

But don'y you understand
pain is not art.
They embellish pain,
to cement the heartache.
They craft darkness
hoping to enlighten.

But in the end,
agony is agony,
no matter how you express,
how you make it bleed.

Emotions from words,
on tear stained pages
captivate readers
making them believe there
is solace in darkness
and leave them forlorn to be adorned.

But their intention was not to
glamorize plan but rather to let it be
their outlet of expression,
therapy and to create.

In the end there is no substitute,
agony is agony,
grief is grief,
illness is illness
and that what it will be.

Until an old photo comes across your eyes, you will never cherish the little pieces of time that pass you by.

To experience is beauty, To live is just a waste.

My mind is full of feelings. My heart is full of feelings. There is no logic to me.

I am art. I was designed by an artist. I was first crafted in the womb. My thoughts are put on paper and become art too.

Life is art. We create moments and memories. Our art is often a photograph.

Feelings are art.

The way you decorate your home is art.

Singing the song you love is art.

We are all artists. After all, we were designed by an artist.

color
blank
color
a white sheet of paper
to some,
intimidating
to others,
an inviting canvas
sharpies lined up
in a rainbow
hand picked
and thought out
by ink-stained hands
blank
then a line
what a miracle
the marker is
to create
with nothing
but the turn of a wrist
drag it along
with your rainbow of colors
and create
perhaps a red penciled rose
With few of blue
and thorns of green
or maybe
a cerulean sea
turquoise waves
white froth
emerald turtles
and golden sand
or possibly
a boy
with ashen hair
and icy eyes
rose petal cheeks
and baby-soft lips
create
something beautiful
colors
and dreams
create
blank
create

Before beauty
God created
beautiful human
is to be seen and sense!