The Starving Artist's Serenade


At 6am, I'm miserable.

Time to get out of bed, move my behind,

Clock in for $7.25 at the daily grind,

Eight hours for this is fucking criminal.


At noon, I'm finally awake.

Check them in, check them out,

This hotel will make me scream and shout,

More and more until my 3pm break.


6pm at home for this desk clerk.

I'll go downstairs and light my bowl,

Rub the bottoms of my aching soles,

And remember that the boyfriend needs picked up from work.


In the day, I scheme

of my future endeavours,

of my artistic means,

And at night ,

I live all my fantasies

Within my dreams.


In the Summer, I'm Venus.

In the Winter, I'm Death. 

The Fall semester proves that I am genius,

And the Spring semester leaves me out of breath.


On my period, I'm a bitch,

And I do my best to be an angel,

To prove to everyone that I am stable,

But God help you if you call my art Kitsch.


To mother, I'm hopeless.

To the boyfriend, I'm insecure.

To my family, I'm immature.

But they don't know, I just need to focus!


Because my professors call me stunning,

My friends call me gifted,

And If I remain this committed,

Then I'll know they weren't bluffing!


Through all of the bullshit,

Those forty hour weeks,

Crying about how to make ends meet,

I'm done with it!

I am an animation geek,

And I'll prove that my dreams aren't a fruitless feat!


Because all of the time, I'm an artist,

And all of the time, I dream in color.

My name is Izzy,

And my work will be like no other.








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