Art Show - Poem by speech writerx
We had no years to tell of,
but what shook free in our pens,
came from centuries of anger.
Onto the paper!
We would never do you wrong! Paint! Paint!
All the negativity clung together and formed agreement yet again,
from dark paints a link emerged,
from shattered lives lived so -
battered and bruised inside,
upon each of us an artist materialized.
I Stood outside the gallery to emerge successful from our dark
Slowly they came with the money to buy.
Wanting to give us 100.200.
To make us feel useful again.
Our pain was useful.
To Someone who sees only the dark inside of a hollowed statue
there is nothing there but art, uncompleted.
She is now typing
but do those words mean more then black letters on a screen.
She is now talking
but do those syllables mean anything but words to be documented
to explain the definition of madness?
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