Simply

And so you call yourself an artist,
meddling upon perfection,
just to lose grasp,
of what is perfection.
And so you leave,
with your memories shattered;
with your body broken.
A smile rests upon your face,
surely it is not joy,
but a simple disregard for sanity;
simply.
And so you call yourself an artist,
but life is deeper then paintings,
surely you're deeper then paintings.
DannYetman
http://yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com/