Art is a passion not meant for a career,

Art is a gift I hold most dear.

Close to my heart it's all I can give;

Defining my soul-I need it to live.


But the future is coming, and coming down fast

And this illustrated present won’t seem to last.

The papers are falling and they’re way past due;

My colors are fading and they’re changing in hue.


College comes at me speeding the days;

And it’s killing me slowly in so many ways

While art is my passion, merely a gift;

It takes me away, floating adrift.


This season will end, my fears drawing near

Halloween will come, but it’s not what I fear.

College is coming, even faster than before

Up on my front steps, it’s knocking on my door.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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