My muse became myself and I
Tell me I am wrong
I don’t want to be right

Trying to reach for what I can’t see
Stretching for heights they can’t see
Ignoring comfort of my very nature
Picking weak pieces
Of shattered confidence
That ruptured off me
When your muse became my ethos

Now I jumped
That very thin line
Ready to face reality alone
My myth loosing its greekiality
My muse lost its roman identity
But maintained its
Adorable feminine quality
The transformation of shamed personality
To grace inspired anomality
Blessed not to be devoid of all feelings
Anticipating acknowledgement
My muse became myself and I

Sympathy for the stiff and scared
Full of fear that loom unknown
With eyes on whispers
Of daunting present
Thoughts of future days
With taunting facet
Ignoring signs in that dark tunnel
That would come to
Junction of day light season
Signs that predicts yet instruct
How No-one walks the world forlon

My muse became myself and I
Infused with vibes on how
Friends and family share the journey
Through this sphere in which we are born
Hearing each other’s hope and sad echos
Sharing their joys and bearing their loads

So I speak for my muse
She is alive and breaths like you
Appreciating my canvas’s value
She’s making me do paintings on
Parts ahead seeming much clearer
Companions lending courage
Expectations of love conquering every shadow
My muse became myself and I



2 thoughts on “MY MUSE

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