What is the word of an artist?
Like a flower
Overlooked
and ignored
Our words weep

But no one to hear what we have to say

The hand creates the mind
And the voice creates the soul
Eyes are the doors to another world

How do we explain these kind of things

Like the flower
To wilt
Forgotten
Crushed
and under-appreciated


through a wondrous explanation
We cannot say
What our truest feelings
Our desires
Overlooked and forgotten

The seeds of doubt sprout
We are nothing
Just like the flowers
Forgotten over time

The hand of an artist prevails no more
Only mortal
We have nothing

No worth
We are nothing