The Art Of You

If I took your pain and called it artistry
if I hung it in a gallery
would others see what I can see?
the wildness of emotion and fury
combined to produce such beauty

The edges would be blurred and faded
crescendo of a flaming heart unshaded
a centre untouched and full of flame
held up high to the world unashamed
wild child destined never to be tamed

Stoic Poetry


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