There’s only one letter
Separating ‘Autistic’ and ‘Artistic’
There’ something in that
And my family call me
‘The Creative One’
Maybe I was doomed from the start
Destined for madness
The Van Gogh of the neighbourhood
Bohemia and tears
They say ‘Art is Pain’
So I bleed on the page
Croon away on the 6 string
And process my pain
Turning nightmares into daydreams
My art is my redemption
Two books, the songs written and forgotten
And too many poems to count
It’s my way of being useful
Not just a waste of space
And maybe the words and melodies
Will someday mean something
To someone
Old flames, future children
Grand children and other ex-cons
They say art is pain
So I bleed on the page
