obscurity,
is where the line between art
and insanity.
disappears.
with no outer validation,
the artist begins to question every creation.
spiralling into an abyss
of hopelessness,
they dare not burn their putrid failures,
for what if they are gold?
YOU ARE READING
n.i.m.b.u.s.
Poetrywords that pour from the veins of the sky. a collection of joyous, soul-crushing melodies, set to the tune of the desert-seaside breeze. //#539 in Poetry [2016.07.10]
