I am am artist that has lost my art.
I am alone and surrounded in a world of the working class. I can’t find my place any longer, I am a caged bird longing to fly. They sit me next to the window and I watch my fellow birds soar through the sky. I weep and I weep because I long for that creative high.
I am an artist that has lost my art.
I see the wall that I can’t go through, so up I keep climbing, over I fight to go, and back home I will be and back in my Eden of words, art, and creativity