The Artist Runs - Poem by Katherine Lyczek
The artist runs,
running as fast as she can,
bursting through as many of the asylum doors,
merely trying to become free;
yet everyone is against her for all intensive purposes.
what possesed her to aim for freedom?
her own life and happiness?
they constantly questioned,
was she insane,
or just corrupt?
Nay they gave no thought to her consent as they bashed in her dreams as they locked the final latch of her asylum cage.
Her screams unheard of for the rest of eternity,
to mankind that is.
They just threw her away,
as if her prior life had no meaning.
the deformity of it all is fascinating.
how can such a young girl,
be so imperitively responcive to her own selfish impulses?
if only there were a man to not hold such redundant gifts as of cruelty nor greed to save her.
yet there was.
so hurt and so, so lost,
she merely kept running.
little did she know she had stopped running long ago.
ganded upon by a man of great virtue and grace.
they laughed together and spent many nights in each other's arms as he dropped in to visit her cage.
yet some nights together,
but so far away.
separated by a tear and a shout,
they combine soon afterwards,
to play it all over again.
for four o'clock works miracles,
they shant wait,
for they're already half past dead.
How they met is a mystery only I shall be to tell.
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