a short poem about...
|We Only Struggle When We’re Together
Such is the life of the ghetto artist.
The canvas, you do not get to choose.
The sacrificed emotions of another’s loss,
They provide the paint for you.
Their innocence a matter of opinion.
The sentencing long overdue.
The pain you feel when you cannot help,
That's the human part of you
We only struggle when we’re together.
But apart, we don’t know what to do.
The monologue of one without the other makes no sense.
The artist, the model, and the you.