Ode to Artists

you might think that you're a martian

but the space you occupy

is out there on the margins

sidelined, shunned and cast aside

even if you trash your life

i won't call you garbage

if you're ghosted once

it loses all its teeth

and your strength begins to harden

they'll be begging on their knees

groveling in grief

always trying to bargain

they move around the truth

and change up all their jargon

they'll deflect until the end

gaslighting all their lives

going up in flames

they're the ones committing arson

you decide who gets forgiveness

be careful who you pardon

hearken to your younger self

there are snakes in every garden

only listen to the critics

who are affectionate and ardent

too many carbon-copied copycats

art, it must be real

it isn't meant to be dishonest

it should be used to hurt the rich

and lift up the downtrodden

the job is never finished

the goal, it isn't fame

the end, it isn't stardom

the thought is alien to some

but to us, it's like a promise

art is not a concept

it's a constant