My Art Is Useless

By Sri Boomija K

In a world that vaunts and wants the brain of greed, Sold as now's need, My art that gives and gives and Heals all those paper souls Is useless.

In a world with a being that disowns its family to feed And leach off on space - out of reach, My art that creates its own galaxies, Scribbled by constellations Of letters and love Is useless.

In a world that spits on my face for what I am in those fuming tweets, My art that radiates sassiness and Salvage me out of my disposed insecurities, Is useless.

In a world that veils its loops and cracks of its greys and greens, And puts on that wrecking perfection, My art that is raw and bold and naked, My art that breaks the bars, Leaks fidelity, Drizzle with spirit and Revives stranded feels, Is useless.

My art that speaks its free mind In this speech arrested cage My art that makes me, Screams me and Trails me through this rage Is useless

Because it can't pay me and save me In a world that hates

The label-less uselessess.

My art that is orphaned and trampled In the world that is not solitary Is always useless.

By Sri Boomija K