Empty Room
You never know your shot at fame is over till it passesTill the hourglass is empty and it’s backwardsAnd in the vacuum you just wonder how this happenedAs the artist in you now gets enveloped inside a casketI’ve put much money and time into this passionNever really thought it would end in quite this fashionBut life is what it is and I’ll never regret the pathI’m just depressed my art never made it to reach the massesJust average, no better and no preferredI guess I felt I had something worthy to give this worldPerhaps it was conceit to have thought I would move the herdEgo to think I’d lead to new standard with note and wordAnd foolish to believe a new paradigm would spurBut though absurd I won’t apologizeI won’t acknowledge my pursuit was just an empty trySo be advised and have the knowledge from this poem occurredThis from the greatest artist in the world you never heard
Well it don’t matter I’m sitting inside an empty roomAlone with no one present to hear the music boomLike Beethoven or Bach without a chance to bloomOr for Shakespeare’s words never to be consumedI just hope that one day my work will be exhumedTo infuse with higher levels now un-pursuedAnd that maybe the spirit in this will surgeAnd turn the world into something in which I’m heard
I’m inside these four wallsI feel confined by four wallsYes, my mind is four wallsWhere thoughts come forth and design rhymes for y’allJust my flow, the audio and my penWell, written it’s a 10But no audience attendsStill I can’t give inThe feeling won’t descendI don’t do this just because, there’s a cause I defendSo the music never endsI’m not the caged bird that never singsI’m the bird in the cage that breaks his wingsTrying to escape from where I feel trappedSo I keep shouting my rapsThe sound waves bouncing backIt hits my frame, recharges my spiritThen clicks my brain, responds with lyrics much stronger than the lastSome day this sonic blastWill cause these walls to crashAnd the mass can be exposedTo the greatest never knownGrown by the desire and the fire that inspires real writersAnd to all of them I’ve shownThat when I arrive they will cheerBut all the while I’ve been hereAll the while in this squareWaiting for someone to hearOr them just to lend an ear
Well it don’t matter I’m sitting inside an empty roomAlone with no one present to hear the music boomLike Beethoven or Bach without a chance to bloomOr for Shakespeare’s words to never be consumedI just hope that one day my work will be exhumedTo infuse with higher levels now un-pursuedAnd that maybe the spirit in this will surgeAnd turn the world into something in which I’m heard.