Why is most art
about falling apart?
Where is that instinct born
to create when our hearts are torn?
Who taught us to make these things?
What is the satisfaction it brings?
When inspiration knocks on the door
of your head or the boards of the floor
How will you answer? What will you gain?
A memento from your time in pain.
When you're happy, there seems to be no time
to paint or sing or assemble a rhyme.
But, when times are hard and the chips are down
the words or vision come around.
It surpasses a drink, over shadows a drug.
It wraps you up warmly, like a hug.
When no one comes over, but you cant be alone -
create and you will feel at home.