by Christopher Shin

Green and silver
with all the black
that flutters and
flashes in my mind.

An open pallet,
but all the colors
yield no inspiration.

I drive to be
an artist, but
only come a second

I am a hack,
and a poseur.
I have no art.

No words to preach
about the broken
and lost.
No lyrics to scream
against the unjustice
of the world.

I don't even
have the ability
to paint you
something lovely.

I sit and stand alone
in frustration.
With no art.

All I have is
and will always be.



Posted on 02/21/2007
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin

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