I feel comfortable not shaving my legs here.
No one cares, and that makes me happy.
What I do, I do for my own edification, when it comes to surface things.
And I'm glad to know there's no high school hierarchy here
Or, if there is, it isn't to be cared about.
I am a loner, but I'm an artist, and I'm smart, and I have a few sweethearts.
That's all I could ever ask for since I've resigned myself to be a tad lonely.
Since I know, elsewhere there are those who love me regardless.
And I heard something brilliant.
"All that matters to humans is that those they love love them."
Or something to that effect-
And strangely I agree with something so seemingly simple
Though I seek so much, and strive for even more
What it all boils down to, in my metamorphic psyche-
Is that simple spelling out of things.
My art is stemmed from love.
And love is stemmed from loved ones, meaning people.
So it all wraps up into a beautiful little case-
Surrounded by all the pretty frills I may choose to sew onto it.
I have lots.
Things aren't simple-
They simply never are.
But this sense of knowing seems so strong in me.
Though art and emotion and all that jazz are what I do.
My beloveds are the reason why.
No comments:
Post a Comment