Colors brushed unto the rough canvas
Details added ever so patiently
Layer by layer, each swipe of the brush
Despite the hours of labor expended, it still remains in mediocrity
Words weaved together
Ideas, thoughts, arranged in multitudes of paper
Each character fleshed out to its fullest potential
Each phrase, sentence, paragraph—still seems to fall short
The stage's lights dance upon skin
Countless runs have been repeated, queues embedded into memory
The drama's message known by heart
All remains to be as false as opposed to reality
Music fills the room
Alterations of notes have been done
A pitch to suit the sound that resounds itself in the mind
Chord progressions, rhythms, all taken to account
The outcome still does not resemble idea
The artist is insatiable
YOU ARE READING
Bottled
Poetry"I've kept all beautiful things inside this bottle, those of which are my feelings-each blissful and crushing one." A series of words to express the inexpressible.
