plight
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What would you know,
About me and my plight?
Have you heard me scream for dear life?
Have you seen my inability to talk,
Incapable of expressing myself,
Unless it is by paper, by words.
Won't you hold me tight
In the middle of the night
Don't turn on the light
Hold me with all your might
You know it ain't right
If we have a fight
That seems to be my plight
But your out of sight!
When I feel for the disadvantaged I write,
When there is chaos everywhere and I know the solution I write,
When my brethren are brutally killed I write,
To share the pain, to discover a solution,
The plight of the artist is one unable to be understood by others,
By those who assume that an artist has it easy,
Those who believe that art is a commodity.
