True art is angsty
We've all heard it
And as an angst ridden teenager
It's only inevitable that I feel like a true artist
And I'm not saying I'm not
But when I go back and read my stuff
I can't help but sigh
"Goddamn, I complain a lot!"
But I mustn't
I'm fine
And when I see those I love
In the unimaginable pain they surely feel
I realize how trashy my lamentations are
I accentuate the negative
And it surely must be a cycle
Since I started writing the way I so often write
I've found myself far far sadder
But also, since then, my triumphs have been more worthy to celebrate
Who knows?
Certainly not I
But true art is everything-
And I really oughta start branching out.
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