DeadArtist

I have been on the "Road To No-Where" from the moment of conception and have traversed many a long, empty and desolate pathway. Once upon a time I danced, sang, walked miles and watched the world move, I painted, sketched, wrote prose, poetry and short stories about being. Some liked and enjoyed my presence, my works, the little bits that I created... Stolen, gone, obliterated. My choices? To ignore, move on or remember, grow sad, then angry... Bitterness is dark, but comfortable. If I don't create there's nothing to steal. Bitterness is dark, but safe. If I stay still and quiet, it's me, only me and how well I learn to appreciate me. It's not them. They've already shown me who and what they are. It's me now and I am here to observe life now, not really to participate in living. Take my things but not my arts. They did. I retreated. I'm clawing a way back... I let the world grow around me, there's a lot of clawing to be done. I'm not yet sure why, maybe it's because I'm growing stronger... or died in the over-growth and now feel indestructible. After all... we might die a million times, but we can be murdered only once. With Thanks: @JK_Woodhauler @JudahKessler @NYC8539266 @Otto_Didactic Special Thanks: @MrGsRoundHillNY