Artist’s Dilemma
It’s not a physical pain, i grudgingly said.
when she wanted a better explanation,
i sighed and flopped onto my bed
singing, Ah, forget me this station!
For who would clutch at this deadly woe
For a single drop of talent, albeit pure?
she sneered, You’re crazy, you live to wallow!
i shrugged and replied, Sure.
she shot me one last haughty glance
then slammed the door as she left
…and if it weren’t for circumstance,
i’d’ve wept as one of passion bereft…
pero todavía, i like to think
that even though i’m ailing,
the water i run down the sink
sets all the fishes flailing.