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It's Not Perfect.
Sometimes the artist makes a fools mistake.
A contract that demands plenty for so little.
Me personally I do this for free currently because I have a job that pays the bills.
It is a hobby to me, always has been.
I work with my back, shoulders, arms, as well as my hands.
Time limited sticks me behind so many others.
Yet I don't care, for I do not desire fame and fortunes.
But instead actually enjoy what I do.
I feel as if I making glue that holds a painting together.
The creation of something all in ones mind.
A satisfying feeling envelopes me as I write them one at a time.
A victory upon this paper, this is something I indeed savor.
I do reread and reread trying to perfect each and everyone of them.
But for the sake of being correct.
Even though I know each one has its own flaws.
That is what make it really unique.
Even when the favored critique tells I'm wrong.
Sometimes thats the way I still want it.
poem
by
Ace Of Black Hearts
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