Inside the Mind of a Mad Artist

Voices in my head
Screaming like an opera
Screaching and singing
Breaking my eardrums

I can't stand it,
Yet I love them so
These voices that tell me
What to write and how to play

It courses through my veins
These melodies
Like madmen with hatchets
Ripping me to shreds

Unless I comply and conform
To their demanding ideas
Playing in my mind again
These monsters I dare to defy

Scribble it down
Play it out
Sing it loud
Sketch it quick

All of these things I must do
And Lord of lords help
Any mortal that dares to
Stand in my inspired way

I pull at my hair, trying to calm
These insatiable fears again
They yell and cry and beg
To be written or played or drawn

I plead with these thoughts
Beg for a normal life, away
From their taunts and sneers
If I cannot correctly preform

But as I write and draw and play
With frantic style and grace
I bring to light my nightmares
The things I fear to be too real

My finished product is wonderful
The voices satisfied now
And I beam upon my creation
Like a new mother at her babe

Then, as soon as it is completed
And I have basked in its glory
for a moment, the monsters return
To torment me into another masterpeice

Thus is the life of a mad artist...