Feelings and Artists

Random thought I had during school.

What do we do when we're sad?
Do we wait till we're glad?

Or do we find some existence somewhere mystical?
Where all the feelings tickle.

Do we write something mournful?
Just so we can see life isn't playing cornhole?

Or do we let the universe fade?
Far away from our game of charades.

Do we think of the emotion?
to pick it out in the motion?

Or do we draw to leave society?
And rise far above the city.

Do we think about ourselves?
Prioritizing our jars of emotions on shelves?

Or do we forget what's real?
And make a story about a talking seal.

What about making a funny game?
To distract ourselves from our pain?

No? Then what about talking to a person?
Someone real, who hasn't committed arson?

Still no? Dang, we artists are hard.
Then what do we do, can't be anything with cards!

But what if it is?
What if we create this?

What if we build to distract?
With the very cards in the act?

What if we talk to those?
In a fantasy, who has chose

What is right and wrong?
And committed arson to join a throng.

What if we fix our problems differently?
What if being an artist means acting aberrantly?

Is it bad, or good?
Here, on the line, I stood.

Beyond what is right and wrong.
To find if being a part of the artist throng,

Means bad habits for feelings.
And how can I explain my reeling

of a conversation?
Maybe it's time to go back to my occupation.

Thoughts get too deep sometimes, tsk.
I guess such is the life of an Artist.