It’s hard being a weed in a world full of plants
It’s hard being the breeze in an atmosphere of wind
Bending and breaking myself for simple acceptance
When I don’t crave acceptance just pure repentance
Why put those two words in the same sentence
My deep love for the arts is called too intense
But it’s my form of defence
My mechanism of breathing more music than air
Music that replaces my relationships
Lyrics my friends, harmonies my family and poetry my children
Why write poems as a forms of expression
For me poetry is my form of confession, a warm hug to cure depression, calming medication for my aggression
So why are you reading this piece of poetry that’s my question
What does art mean to you, the future of art is under your possession
I crave peace and sensuality, protective of my peace, maybe too much
Too smart to not follow trends but to scared to miss out on this generation
Too weird or awkward to have those conversations
Then art is taken for granted by what feels like the entire nation
I want more art and it drains me that people don’t.
By Lucy M.
