“Tortured Art”

~Esther Mitchell, 2012~

I’ve lost my inspiration,

It’s crept away to hide;

My Muse has sought seclusion,

Since discovering how others lied.

They told me I could make it,

Success, they said, was on my side;

All I had to do was want it,

It would be mine, if I only tried.

But no one ever mentioned heartache,

Or said a word about the pain;

There was no mention of endless hoops and circles,

Looping on themselves again and again.

With each crumbled hope,

And every crushed dream,

I feel the tightening of the rope,

And hovering failure drags forth a tortured scream.

For, with my Muse shrouded in silence,

And my present painted so bleak,

My confidence turns to dust and self-violence,

My art unable to find voice enough to speak.


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