creation

through creation my mind is freed
my soul is a creature of worry and need
during times of distress my mind is a fire with ingenuity
but this time my imagination simply cant get through to me

My body believes mind is blank, barren, and dead inside
I've cried a sea of tears and now I'm drowning in the tide

My soul is begging to release this pent up emotion
but my hands cant comprehend this promethean ocean
i have a flood of thoughts that are dying to get on paper
but translating an idea is like grasping at vapor

Art is a method to rid my mind of its madness
it unveils my feelings to the world and releases my sadness

Without my creations getting out of my head and onto paper
my depression and anger will work its self to a taper
i can't draw, i can't write, i cant even sing
this inability to create is maddening

so world, wont you do me a favor?
end my suffering. let death be my savior.