I Am An Artist

I am an artist

I wonder if the true ideal of freedom of artistic expression actually exists
Or are we bound by the constraints of our own fear?
I hear the constant support of the notion
From others close around me but
I see them shriek and cower in fear
When the notion becomes practice
At it's own borders and limitations
Set by us, the artists
I want to point a finger at the world screaming
"Look at this"
"Why is this happening?"
"Let's do something about it"

I am an artist

I pretend. I imagine
I create. I question
I feel humanity's self awareness
Of our own evolutionary process
Slipping, slowly through our fingers
I touch the destruction and poison that is us
I cry because I am part of it

I am an artist
And I WILL point my finger at the world