Starving Artist

Who am I to look at the shadows on the wall and 

Question their existence

Who am I to fear what may come in the future and 

Tremble in my trepidation caused by the troublesome mind 

Who am I to think that I could change it at all and 

Believe that I am capable of change for my brothers and sisters

Who am I, all alone?

Who am I to wish that it could all be different? 

Moon, water, flowers, 

Sun, flint, fire, brimstone.

In the end, we all meet our end so why should I believe 

I can raise my voice to change anything?

Love ends so why chase it?

Life ends so why live it?

Suffering exists so why prevent it?

Entrenched in an existence wrought by pain,

Why seek solace?

Who am I to express doubt, or worry, or, damn it all, uncertainty?

I should drone along on my given path and forget

This individuality that I flaunt and

Break down my flagrant mind that irreconcilably falters.

With enough medicine one day I can be just like You

With all of the tormenting voices, I can shrivel down into a 

Half-being and become the demonic caricature I'm meant to be. 

Who am I to run from my keeper?

After all, they've filled my surroundings with landmines,

One false step and I'm gone, forever, and gone too soon.

Before that savage ground, there are walls and 

Who am I to wish those walls would sing again?

So why don't I just confine myself to the pages I've been assigned

Dip down and drown myself in the ink of the words.

Wither away into the essence of corporate source code and 

Become someone worth desiring in the eyes of someone 

Who has done the same?

Why not once again go through the monotonous task of 

Being someone's necessity?

It is oh-so-fulfilling to play the understudy of 

Another's eternally absent well-being.

Watch as I'm cast out and they deteriorate,

Watch as I return to my calling and they're beyond repair,

Watch as I give more and more because they require it of me,

Watch as I give myself up and create this intrinsically siphoning existence,

Watch as I split myself again and again to provide a circle of belonging,

Watch as I get tossed out once more and don't feel quite right

Watch as I search for a division of myself that contains purpose

Watch as they stumble back to give me a new one

Oh, how I love being desired, yes, I'm responsible for their happiness

Oh, how I was starving before, and these empty platitudes are magnificently nourishing

Oh, how could I live without these soul-wrapping shackles 

Oh, how would I ever leave, this is my home, they are my home

Oh, how might I deny their request, sure, take everything from me, 

After all, I can't make up my mind and probably never will.

So sure, it's theirs to shape.

After all, my soul isn't even mine, and if it is, eventually I'll lose it.

So sure, why don't they pull it from me?

Who am I to object? 

Who am I but a starving artist?