1893

I think I have become lost in my art.
The art of anger.
I should take my thoughts elsewhere.
To a place of long dresses and top hats.
A woman has showed me this place only once.
I would sell my soul to return.
Allow me to return.

I could make an entrance.
One that they will remember forever,
or maybe it should be an exit.
I should figure out my intentions first.
Yes, my intentions.
but who am I to speak?