For The Sake Of Your Art Poem by Michael William

It is not for the sake of your art
For whic u will suffer
But because of it:
There is agony in revision, the turning of a
Phrase
Like a screw in your mind, a change of rhythm like a loss of innocence, better maybe but changed no longer sudden revelation but polished brass. 

If you could let this go,
There would be happiness
If you could let this go
It would be better
Than this

But you can't let this go
This poem in your mind
That feels like the rough wood
Of the last branch
Between you and the ground
Slipping through you fingers