Artist

No matter the future, no matter if fame
Or misunderstood always the same
I will always be the truest
The truest form of artist
Trapped in suburbia a concrete bee hive
Never reached, never looked upon
I sit here writing my own eulogy
Which, just conveniently happens to be my biography
Composing my own requiem
Transposing emotions to words
Basking in the finest least heard form