Sidewalk serenade
By Dillon Collins
I am writing these words to you beside your city streets, as I am stepped on, and kicked, my chalk crushed beneath your feet. I will forever scream to get respect in my own quiet way, that's why I'm going to work my magic on mainstreet by the broad-light of day.
I worked on throughout the day even though no one stopped to take part. A few people stopped a moment but only to scoff by saying "that ain't art". But I begged to differ so I worked hard long into the night. It really seems a little bit lonely out here in the streetlight.
I can't see what i'm doing but I really don't care. It's still art wether or not it will make people stare. Frostbitten hands and numb toes for cold feet. I died for my art, laid out in the street. morning traffic is driving on by, I hope when they see it, they remember, and cry.
I Dedicate this poem to roshkat, because her poem (blank bullets) wattcode 1155123, inspired me to write this one. So you should probably go read it, or something.(:
