Sadly through the day I trudge, I tromp, the dirty misfit you've chosen to ignore. And yet I ask myself what did I do wrong? "Nothing" is what I am told. Still that doesn't take away the pain, the hurt, or lift the crushing weight off of my soul. Deeper and deeper, I feel lost again, why? Why?
I'm often told that I make art that is fun, with a personality. I hide behind my art, I want to be more, so much more than...
I hate this feeling, self doubt, self loathing, why do I let it bother me so?
To paraphrase a movie and book I detest, tomorrow is another day.
