Banging My Head Against Your Wall

You know, each day in the life of an artist is lived in struggle, be it resigning oneself to a life that most will consider poor, or seeking understanding of people, places and things. There are days when I feel I am on the path of Pan;
the devil behind a bush at every turn, pelting me with rocks- content to create a distraction to obstruct my view of higher ground.
For all I've lived, I am amazed at how little I still know about myself, and it starts me wondering- after all- what am I here to learn?
I find love to be the most noble of pursuits-
But we live in the day of the public man, and as your ears disappear behind your I Pods, and your eyes are lost in a book or worse, somewhere else, I find little opportunity to show my interest, my colors. I fear in the day of the public man, I might be misconstrued as lewd.
To be or not to be open that is the struggle- to walk a hallway of closed doors without my protective amour, to knock on those doors despite hearing the lock tumblers turn as I approach. The public man
Is only concerned with what I bring, and not with what I seek. Ask yourself if you care about what I can do for you rather than what you can do for me.