Not Just An Artist
It's not my fault that I really can't focus all the time.I am just easily bored
And find other ways
Through long school days
That may or may not rhyme.
I'm usually ending up
With a trusty black notebook
And a mechanical pen in my hand
And I draw and write things there
Without a care
While others sneak a look.
They tell me that it's great
Which I can appreciate
Until it happens over, over again
And it gets old
Constantly told
I'm good at what I make though
I have other talents, mind
I'm pretty good with rhymes
And I love to write and play the clarinet.
But still they say
Day after day
"That's wonderful this time."
I really like to write
Even deep into the night
But few will take the time to stop and read
So I just draw
They ooh and ah
Over things I don't think right.
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