The Darker Thespian

No one else knows it, but I am an artist;

A writer, a painter, an actor, jack of all trades, I have it all

But not a conventional one, for my inspiration lists

At the very void of my brain and the ruin of my soul

.

I inspire myself by dragging my emotions down

Depression is very welcome, for he’s what fuels my mind

I sacrifice and suffer, for artistry I’ll scream and frown

A passionate artist, for my craft, leave my common sense behind

.

I weave chromatic words together with the darkness of my heart

Create a web of lies, my burdens dictate my art

Scratching words on a pad, hoping someone would notice me

Creating my own reality and cautionary tales with poetry

.

I paint works of arts with a sharp brush and my own blood

The numbing pain, the crimson rain, give me joy, it’s quite odd

Painting pretty pictures on the canvas of my skin

 Covering my ugly scars with better ones, abstract to its kin

.

I practice my acting by faking my feelings everyday

It’s all a stage play to me, why does it matter anyway

Tons of masks to hide me, all plastered upon my face

Trying to compete with a society that is the greatest fake

.

I am an artist, and this is what I do so far

Everything I feel for this world, on my works and creations it lies

But shame now that the world has lost another star

For my artistry finally drove me to the wall and lead to my demise.

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