Art

I do not like art.
It does not cure disease.
It does not feed you. (Thanks Laura!)
It does not promote science.
It does not advance knowledge.
It does not teach you.
It does not push us to the stars.

 And yet,
I wrote this poem.

Even A Poor Mirror Tells No Lies

Johnny stays up late with me
Feeding me lies
He's my only friend
He took me from my family

Work took my soul
I gave up on the rest
'Til I saw the pain in her eyes
'Til I caused the pain in his

I wasn't me
I don't know if I can find him again
I am scared he's lost for good
I fear I killed my life

But I see the errors now
I still see the pains from the wrong
I'm going to fight to find him
And maybe, along the way,
I might find my dignity too,
And finally respect the mirror.

I've lied to myself before,
Ignored the truth,
Pretended to have control,
But really just killing my life.

I can make all the changes,
Except to change the past.
So I must live with regret,
And hope the future is there.

But I see the errors now
I see the pains from the wrong
I'm going to fight to find him

And maybe, along the way
I might find the dignity too,
And finally respect the mirror.