by AnnMarie

Created on: August 01, 2008

The winter day is bleak and cold,
Brownstone buildings chipped and old,
Sidewalks dirty, slush and grime,
Where is the beauty I once knew in time.

The words so powerfull, raw and bold,
Assault on the mind, young heart so old,
Spray paint or brush a story is told,
On a cold winter morn for all eyes to behold.

Do not hide behind your symbols and scorn
Do not ugly the city of which you were born.
Tell me a story with art and rhyme,
Show me a true artist and I will show you sublime.
Be an artist if you choose, with color and sight,
Show the world who you are...come out of the night,
And...forever into the light.

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