The Cry Of An Unnoticed Artist

You appreciate every writer that you see.

Why do you fail to notice me?

I bleed the same blood.

I've been dirtied by the same mud.

My cries arise from the same pain.

We all sing the same song in different names.

You don't fall for the artist.

You fall for the art.

For we're all sculptors of the language,

Travelling the same cart.