The Failed Artist

The Failed Artist

The flow of energy as her body sways across the stage
The grace created by every emotion she gives
Entices all the young bloods oh the rage
Thinking about this, which the artist saw
He was left with a monotonous awe
He takes out his canvas and starts to think
He looks at the canvas without a blink
If i am a failed artist
What can i create on this canvas?
I have the visual in my head
But my hand isn’t flowing
It’s as hard as a dried out brush
Where the hell is the inspiration?
All is lost except for the aspiration
I think its not, the power and beauty of her presence
Is making my hand free of its chains
The paint, the canvas and the brush are a part of me
And my vision of re creating the image with them is what i want the world to see


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