Envy is like a floor just mopped
The moment you step on it
You slip hard
Bruising your back
Failing to stand back up again
I have been falling again and again
As i see words of people
That never came to my mind
And i punish
I punish myself for being a careless kid
Who decided not to do his homework
And come up with excuses
I have a stomach ache too
Art has tranformed for me
And has become Michael Jackson's teacher
One wrong step means million repercussions
One of them being doubting myself
Like Bukowski's thirty years dream of being published
Until someone decides to take a chance for me too
I am just a small fish
In a sea of dolphins
Who are loved
I am fed to the sharks as bait
As I try to find my identity

I find myself in a small room of mirrors
Where stand poetries in line
The good ones and the bad ones
Deciding their beauty by looking at their own reflections
My poetry has a distorted image
Just like my body
Having the curves like numer 1
With dark circles under their eyes
And a glowless skin with scars
Too many of them
That put even freckles to shame
I wish to become a poetry instead
With layers of meaning
Peeled slowly, one by one
Which lead them to a wow rather than a sigh
But I expect too much from my tired self
And no matter how much I try
I fail to understand that art has liberated people
But I am prisoner to a bad art
[Who are these people to judge the words of my soul]
Like a mouse in a mousetrap
I am my sister's painting
Drawn and torn over and over again
Until "the one" finally comes up on surface
This is haunting for how the search team
Can never rescue two,
My art is a number third
A half infinity standing up straight
And as I write this another poem
Failing yet again to burst like the crackers in their mind
And produce the aurora lights of ecstasy
I know how Van Gogh felt when he committed suicide
For I am that one line suicide letter
"This sadness will last forever"
And this art will cover my wrists as colored bangles
Hiding what lies beneath
Until one day my body grows too big in size
To carry what never belonged to me
--- Reason why I am a prisoner to art, it never feels like freedom.

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It is about envy when someone is better than us in our art