Wrong Art

Cramped in a diminutive space,
Legs shoved into another bust corner.
Walls crumbling downwards,
Sandcastles washed into the open ocean.
Sun killing the senses,
I have no feeling what so ever.

Salty water stings the bleeding
Wounds that I hide under my shirt.
Crossed and determined to get out
Of this mess alive, well.
Mixed and unknown,
I don't know the difference of right and wrong.

Running along the beach, happy,
I want to be one of them.
I can't be me anymore,
The scars are always there as a reminder.
Don't want to go back and hack again,
Try and figure the mess that's tangled.

Knots too hard to undo,
And I'm stuck in mud, noway out.
Hanging tight to my sleeve,
Slit bursts open again.
Dying from loss of blood,
Nothing will be right again.

Mind not in function,
I have no say with my life.
Right and wrong ways to be happy,
I just took the wrong route.
Lost and back tracked,
I need to find an open road back home.

At the time, this seemed right.
It was the only way to express my art.