Thank you my art, for your disillusionments
For keeping me sane and small
Withstanding my passion and bitterness
Seeing me through my temper with your temperance
Allowing my weaknesses to unashamedly shine through
A true friend, it feels nothing; it lets me Be
At times my words run dry
And inspiration flees
When my Muse has had enough
Leaving me deflated, at a loss, feeling alone
With my chronic fumbling, my indecision
My pride, my resentment, my bursting heart
Too full to express all I never needed to say
But hopefully by then the words are wrestled down
Persuaded to stay put where I say
And I have filled a page
To chisel and mold
Until I have something to show
For my anguish and chaotic machinations
Of mind and soul
Something to hold up - if only to myself
If only to say - Now that's Something
Maybe, I guess, maybe....
Thank you my friend though I know
Even you will leave me at the end
When they shut me in
With a pen resting upon a cold unclasped hand
And a writing pad on which to lay my head
And if anyone is there to watch
As my remains return Earth's embrace
At least they'll be able to read
What I have made of my life
Only words, my blankets, my only warmth and worth
Only words, but at least, it will be
Something to show
Hopefully, maybe....
So hopefully, whoever is there to dance on my grave
Can see something of what I gave
Then, maybe then they will know
Come to understand why I withheld so much....
Honestly, I don't know as of yet
For as you see I'm still alive
Say what you want- exalt or criticize
They are but words which I have cajoled and coerced
And bullied into place
So I shall put them forth- let them take the brunt
Express all the love and grace
I was too strong to show
And speak up for all I've never done
Thank you my art, my salve, my one true friend
Though I know, even you will leave me in the end
