Within that one shattered piece of soul you have left There is no flicker of a tiny flame Nor minute piece of moonstone meant to hang in the endless night you call your heart Only an empty, yawning vacuumed meant to suck light in
No one left to blame but the reflection you are blind to Gone is the hollow beating which you used to call Heart As you stare out the plated glass in jealousy Desperately wanting what the real people have By which you have no name for..
The Artist is always alone with his Art (nobody can see through his soul and understand him the way he is, and a lot less the original intention of his artistical conceptions); it can be a lot of society surrounding the Artist, but with his art he lives in another mental dimension,like blindfolded... He is always sadly alone (on his artistic mind) despite any social companion...
The Artist is mostly manipulated for a lot of social interests, and mostly he becomes a phantom dresser, a mannequin, a puppet, who will be at Satan's service: "Marketing" and their ups and downs...
So, that´s the way (more or less) the Artist´s life is, like one big vacuous...
I'd love to hear your opinion about it.. I value every fav you give me, even if I won't be able to thank each and every one of you.. Thanks for watching my work!
Your wonderful artwork has been featured in our group`s journal [link]
CONGRATULATIONS!