I am Art

I am not women I am not men
I am art
Call me art
Call my love art
I identify as art

This art has no artist
It has artists
However everyone who passes by this art feels the need to take from it
And some try to rewrite and repaint this art

Half of me is poetry
That gets worse by every stanza and
Forces you to stop reading in the first two lines
This art is a love poem and a war poem
It’s a love poem about how one can love themselves only to learn how to hate themselves
How one loves themselves enough to hate themselves
How one loves themselves enough to want to kill themselves
This art is a sacrificial poem
How one wants die to save others from discovering this art
It is a suicidal poem, a death poem, a happy poem, a sad poem, a history poem, an environmental poem
This art is a poem about you

This is art is music
Silently loud
It is jazz and reggae on Sunday evenings
But never gospel
It is hip-hop But tries not to RNB even though it longs to be

This art is dance
That expresses itself in different genres
Most days I am hip hop
But if you watch close enough I am contemporary
But I try so so much to ballet
However this art is a traditional dance of the Mpondo people

This art is paintings and sculptures
This art is the Scream painting
Every day a different painting
But could never be a self portrait
Because we love to hate the self
This art is sculptured by coarse hands therefore it is not fine

On most days this art would like to believe it is a novel
Every chapter made up to be the victim
However
It tries to be the villain in fairytales

Call me art
I am art

When you see me
See art
It evokes different emotions in people and no one sees the same type of art
But see art

The sunflower you didn’t pick

I’m a prisoner in my own shelter
A half-done canvas with no artist
I am a jailbird in my own zoo
dreams are detained in holding cells
I am a cannabis that never burns but gives you highness

I’ve got hell living in me
I’m the girl they forgot to introduce
I’m the frost on your hands
The winter morning breeze
I’m the girl your parents told you not to hurt
I dance in blood of those who made me bleed before
I’m the villain in every fairy tale
Through trials I have lived to tell this day

Do not love me
To love me is to love a haunted house
My demons are too intimate
They don’t like entertainment
It’s nice to vist twice a year
but not every day
The hell in me is the reason
I decay in my own bed on a daily basis
The hell I live in is the reason
The flowers under my bed died
Because hope was murdered