Where has all the art gone?
Where is the pazazz?
Where is the true feeling in the poetry, pictures, drawings?
I seem to have lost it.
I find it in no one.
I don't know where it has gone.
If you have anything that has true meaning behind it... would you mind sharing with me?
I'm tired of these nothings
These frivolous journals
These wasted sketches that no one would see
Where has it gone to?
I want to know
So I can daydream, escape into something new too