Repressed Silence

I sit, alone or companioned, staring out to see

The faces of those around me:

Familiar, yet discordant; seemingly

Omnipresent yet never truly there.


I am an artist, I strive to make


Come alive in the faces of those that see me

Shine, those that travel to see my work,

To be moved, affected, changed in some way:

Altered by my visions.

I aspire to share my dreams, to bring Art

To the needy and


To the weary.

I bleed I sweat I cry: to dream.

I sacrifice limb and sanity to alter

Those who visit me in my fantasy land.

Whether they laugh or cry, they get angry or get glad

Is of no matter to me.

All I want is to make feelings,

For you to feel different when you leave

Than you did when you began.

I talk the big talk and I dream the big dreams

Yet sometimes it seems it is only just me

Who wishes to change the world in this fashion,

To bring light to the world and bring help to the lonely.

Yet when it seems like no one is standing beside me

I feel most ready to step from behind

The Curtain.

The Curtain that holds me back, that refuses to bend,

Refuses to give in

That demands of me not to spread my message

To keep my art to myself and myself to myself;

To live quietly, in the shadows, attracting no Sun.


I am an Artist, that much rings true,

But those standing beside me

Don’t seem to want it to be true.

They won’t let me out from

Behind the Curtain

To show the world Me,

They wish only for silence.

For mediocrity.


But not me.


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