Good For You… But

I want to be an artist; there are whole worlds to create
I want to be a sculptor; there are legends to replicate
I want to be a writer; I have stories that need to live
I want to be an actor; I have so much I can give

“Good for you… but”
Is what They always say
“It takes a lot of work
You might get lost along the way
Is it really worth the effort?
What about security
It’s nice to have these dreams,
But nicer is surety”

How can that be better, if these worlds remain unmade?
Canvasses unpainted, no forms drawn forth from clay?
Characters and stories that remain only a notion
All of these traded in for a ‘safer’ devotion?

“Good for you… but
How will you survive?”
As if merely about survival
Wouldn’t I rather thrive?
“Think about your future
There’s bills and rent to pay
Find a realistic line of work
Don’t just focus on the play”

Is a passionless existence somehow the better offer?
‘Better to deplete the soul and then fill up the coffer’
As if they are exclusive, artistry and success
I will be an artist, and for me I know what’s best