Ever look into a masterpiece with the intention that its gonna be wonderful?
How the detailed strokes ban together to overthrow they white canvas.
The effort created by a beaten and used brush can mold some of the most historical paintings
Me…
You…
Us…
I'm not sure about you, but can't draw.
The entirety of my life has been surrounded by artists, but I just wasn't given the gift to create collages, artwork, stick figures look down on me.
Every time I pick up that brush I create blobs of paranoia and absence
Timelessly I try and shape images
But they always end up curving itself into a meaningless stick figure lost in the oblivion of color.
I admit it…
I can't draw, Can't Dance, Can't become Picasso or be worshiped as Van Gogh
But we can be cultivated
I can be the clay that becomes a vase
I have the power to mend wounds
I… can be painted into the future
A lot of times creativity excels more in its prime, co-exist in crime and ponders in the meantime
But commodity forces smudges onto papers, embeds fingerprints onto sculptures and constricts all sense of the precision
Society condemns the need for incidents and distracts the hungry minded from the bitter cemented taste of fear
Congregations of conception put your means in bondages and its haughty colors around you
Strangling every color that which is taken by the wind
Foreshadowing the extinguishing of the voice of the mountains
Visualizing perfection is plagiarized lies
But infectious innovation is simply understood as a prosaic fledgling
And if you, by all means, give me some kind of incentive to stimulate my creativity with casual standards
I will not deal with the narcissistic prerogatives
I will not create a new name for myself because of injustice and insensibility
I refuse to sculpt a new figure with overlaying burdens of other expectations
Tossing inspiration into a blender cannot manufacture a masterpiece, I'm not a machine I'm a change
I don't spit out Picasso and I won't forge original pieces
I'm more than disoriented strokes on a canvas
Value is found within more than who dismisses my art
I don't rearrange discombobulated reality that sifts through dreams and aspirations
I organize a difference and express original masterpieces