A Quiet Night

When the day ends and the crickets sound
and the fireflies are all gathering, I can tell the
night is afoot and I can finally spend my time mastering
this reality in front of me, drawing, erasing, and drawing
again, trying to make amends and pretend I have the skills
of Leonardo Di Vinci, trying to harness his spirit to create a

For some reason I can't get it right, even though I have this 
beautiful moon in my sights, as I look up into the starry night
that ignites the internal fight within me, tearing myself apart
over this painting, at this point I think I'm mincemeat as I 
connect with the maker that exposes me as a fraud, a faker, a
false creator.

My work is trash and melancholy all the same, can't create any
thing happy that would make someone's problems go away, to 
connect them with the present moment and make them want to
stay and so, yet again, I let another beautiful and quiet night slip

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