A dam of words inside my mind
Allowed to pour from a tiny tap.
The more they come, the more I find
The words will mingle and overlap.
They squeeze out of the minute spigot
And assemble into phrases.
Perfect sense, the meaning explicit
Kindling for a fire that blazes.
Powerful, marvelous, beautiful hues
Oranges, purples, greens, reds.
Words that tickle, words that bruise.
Words that intertwine like threads.
All this I channel in exhausting effort
To make the world less dreary.
Artists long to show discomfort
So people understand the weary.
An artist's mind has seen the deep.
They work to make the world whole.
They spend countless nights forgoing sleep
In an attempt to lessen the toll.
YOU ARE READING
Pages
RandomEntries from my free-write notebook. Mostly musings, periodic poetry, rarely real events. An escape from the real world, a door to my head.
