I must have read somewhere that art equals pain; reworked, revised improved upon, but pain nonetheless. A means of expressing the anguish and innermost jot or fury of the one so improverished. The perpetual flowing from a seemingly endless source of pathos.
A relentless well-spring of:
Guile and Guilt
Fervor and Splendor
Tremor and Hope
A truly cleansing and uplifting experience. If poetry can be considered art, then I offer my art for your perusal and publication.