The idea of writing repulses me,
The words gawking at my brain,
Like starved hounds without pedigree,
It feels, like my poet went insane.
It is in vain –
The blood. The smudge. The pain.
It is in vein.
The idea of becoming commercial,
Following advises of greedy wolves…
I’d rather take path of controversial,
Sing for my pleasure unedited tunes.
Here's To Express.. :)
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Sailing through emotions, letting them flow out as words, I'm charting the waters of life and writing as I venture.
Aren't songs of grief lullabies to the lost?
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Unoriginal (love) noteS 
yes, that should be the philosophy behind the writing. “Sing for my pleasure unedited tunes. Well penned.
“
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Thank you ♥ Yes,I preach this selfish philosophy. I see no other point in art, besides giving pleasure for its creator, and shocking (pissing off) the world, but that’s optional 🙂
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haha..Yes that is..but writing to one’s heart content is the way to go.
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Wholeheartedly agree 🙂
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