Starving Artist

Writing the words
That I think
That I feel
That I know in my heart
Are true, are real
But who understands
If they don't speak the truth
If they hold themselves back
If they've lost their youth
Their minds are gone
So write what's on mine
My readers are few
But with them I shine
I'm a starving artist
With my life in my hands
I need to be seen
To fulfill my plans

Mississippi Blues

Down the road
Down the hot dirt road
Brown boarded shanty
With Papa outside
Strumming that banjo
Keeping the rhythm
With his sun-baked toes
Mama humming lullabies
And stirring in time
Seven little heads
Jumping in puddles
Climbing bent trees
Smiling, laughing
Running, running
Sun overhead
Burning Papa's neck
But the grass stays green

Music

Badump
Badump
Badump
The music plays
Through my veins
Beating my heart
In rhythms
It did not know before.
It pulses in my brain
The only coherency
Comes from the sweet, sweet words
That pass through talent's lips
Through talent's fingers
Through talent's soul
Badump
Badump
Badump
The music plays on

Despair

The stars exist
As does the moon
So why does the night
Present such a gloom
Night brings silence;
There's nothing to fear
But still, I hide
Until true light appears
Who's afraid of the dark
Who's afraid of despair
Who runs from it all
Who tries not to care
The numb settles;
I'm lost without light
So I wander in darkness
I wander in night

Hide and Seek

Crazy she calls me
Because I run
Too afraid to face what I should
Because I hide
Too afraid of confrontation
Too afraid of being sought after
For all the wrong reasons
(obligation, pity)
I hide from all
Though all is not choice
I seek as well
Though most is unattainable
And more is hiding too
In the dark unnoticed corners
I am afraid;
I want to be found
But who will find me?
They’re the one with the match
And not I;
I wield the candle
Illuminate my prison

I will surrender
I will admit it
You will win

Criminal

Take me away
I’m guilty as charged
I’m the destroyer
A heart breaker
My crime is of ignorance;
Of wanting, of feeling,
Of being myself
And while these were once acceptable,
(For ignorance goes hand in hand
With innocence, and is only changed
Through the teachings of
Someone more knowledgeable that I)
It is now too late
Too late for changes
Too late to prove
That I can be the girl
That he wants me to be
That he is expecting
He hates me, he hates me,
Hates the new mold
That I’ve fallen into
Hates my thoughts
That I’m indecisive
That I’m confusing
That I’m moody
That I’m sarcastic
That I’m so lost
Up and down I go
Having reasons to be happy
But never truly happy
I need a map
I need a key
Please save me