When an artists heart has a hole
there is very little to be told.
writ upon his face
are the scars of his disgrace.
His work is flawed, muse mute
medium taunting where once it was flaunting
It takes a while to mend the soul,
for him to walk again brave and bold.
He gets a grip upon his haste
treads with caution and with grace
Listning carefully for cupids flute
and living each day to it's full no matter how daunting.
To the reader take greatest care,
an artists heart is a treasure
afloat upon the air.
Anything else he may offer to give
is but sand in the desert when set beside
the devotion, compassion, honesty.
So if what you see it not to your taste
nor can you accept what you see,
be honest to him and yourself
without fear of hurt feelings,
anger, jealousy, or retribution
and just leave him as you found him
walking free in a forest, of concrete ubiquity.
© Bass Switala
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Submission Name: Losing Pain
