I never wanted to bleed for art but I did
And that broken mirror is made of glass
Ever sharp as a knife that severs flesh
Punched a mirror until I was free within
My flesh broken, my psyche an outcast
My sorrow taken in, I'm without breath
Staring at the broken mirror, I shatter
Nothing I do has value, I don't matter
All I'll do is nothing, I'm not wanted
I will never do a thing that'll be worthy
My legacy will be a body of work
That is completely and utterly haunted
I've gone through my life, a nightmare
All I've accomplished is being a pariah
Success has always escaped my reach
Victory is a prize I've never won
And those words are not denial
They reflect truth
For a man to become a poet ... he must be in love, or miserable. Lord Byron
