Your pen flurries across the page
In a fit of a jealous rage
My mind is filled with wonder, my last clean slate
First, you begin to draw
Straight, smooth lines
Then rough, dragged round lines
You took a clean paper
A clean slate
And you filled it with darkness
The image you see is beautiful to you
but scribbles to me
Every time I close my eyes
These scribbles turn to vision
The black and dark behind my eyes
The pictures you drew on the page
without a thought
That's the story of my life.
YOU ARE READING
My Kitchen Sink
PoetryAre you searching for purpose? Then write something, yeah it might be worthless. -Twenty One Pilots This is my worthless writings, for a kitchen sink to you is not a kitchen sink to me. Stay street.
