its so strange
i can not figure out my muse
its as though she isn't there
i think as my brain blows a fuse
she seems to only inspire
in the moments i'm not there
unavailable for art
neglecting to be fair
maybe my artistic conduit isn't one with something to leave
but rather a social construct forming around me
the people i meet
and places i'm in
all looking to be inspired
by whatever they can
my art my muse
inside spiraling around
to flow to whats right
i cant keep distractions
or the beauty i see
so i let it flow straight out of me
when somebody asks
where is your mind
i can only really answer
that I've left that behind
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