You never know your shot at fame is over till it passes
Till the hourglass is empty and it's backwards
And in the vacuum you just wonder how this happened
As the artist in you now gets enveloped inside a casket
I've put much money and time into this passion
Never really thought it would end in quite this fashion
But life is what it is and I'll never regret the path
I'm just depressed my art never made it to reach the masses
Just average, no better and no preferred
I guess I felt I had something worthy to give this world
Perhaps it was conceit to have thought I would move the herd
Ego to think I'd lead to new standard with note and word
And foolish to believe a new paradigm would spur
But though absurd I won't apologize
I won't acknowledge my pursuit was just an empty try
So be advised and have the knowledge from this poem occurred
This from the greatest artist in the world you never heard
Well it don't matter I'm sitting inside an empty room
Alone with no one present to hear the music boom
Like Beethoven or Bach without a chance to bloom
Or for Shakespeare's words never to be consumed
I just hope that one day my work will be exhumed
To infuse with higher levels now un-pursued
And that maybe the spirit in this will surge
And turn the world into something in which I'm heard
I'm inside these four walls
I feel confined by four walls
Yes, my mind is four walls
Where thoughts come forth and design rhymes for y'all
Just my flow, the audio and my pen
Well, written it's a 10
But no audience attends
Still I can't give in
The feeling won't descend
I don't do this just because, there's a cause I defend
So the music never ends
I'm not the caged bird that never sings
I'm the bird in the cage that breaks his wings
Trying to escape from where I feel trapped
So I keep shouting my raps
The sound waves bouncing back
It hits my frame, recharges my spirit
Then clicks my brain, responds with lyrics much stronger than the last
Someday this sonic blast
Will cause these walls to crash
And the mass can be exposed
To the greatest never known
Grown by the desire and the fire that inspires real writers
And to all of them I've shown
That when I arrive they will cheer
But all the while I've been here
All the while in this square
Waiting for someone to hear
Or them just to lend an ear
Well it don't matter I'm sitting inside an empty room
Alone with no one present to hear the music boom
Like Beethoven or Bach without a chance to bloom
Or for Shakespeare's words to never be consumed
I just hope that one day my work will be exhumed
To infuse with higher levels now un-pursued
And that maybe the spirit in this will surge
And turn the world into something in which I'm heard