As an artist and Prophet of Discord,
I weave chaos into my digital art,
In a world where order is often abhorred,
I let my spirit play its part.
My room is cluttered with tools of trade,
Cables, keyboards,
Flowers and ash,
A chaos that cannot be contained,
As colors and shapes before me lie.
Inspiration in disorder,
I find,
My mind lost in contemplation,
An escape from realities unkind,
To a world of imagination.
But a mentor's words have pierced my soul,
To ponder my reality,
beyond the illusion,
The location of my spirit,
my ultimate goal,
To break free from this self-made prison.
My doubts and fears,
a burden to bear,
In a world of politics and division,
Where chaos reigns,
and truth is rare,
A storm approaching,
a world's decision.
In this moment of realization,
My spirit rises above,
and I float,
A portrait of myself,
a revelation,
A moment in time,
captured by my own art.
My spirit,
trapped within these walls,
A self-imposed prison,
hard to break,
But I must heed the prophet's calls,
And confront the world, for my spirit's sake.
A Metalisa NFT,
a metaphor,
A digital art piece,
a prison of its own,
A token of value,
yet so much more,
A world trapped,
its fate unknown.
I break free from this prison of mine,
With my art,
a message to convey,
A prophet of discord,
a voice divine,
To save the world from its own decay.
