A blank canvas
So pure, so clean
Untouched by any other, this is my
slate to inscribe a legacy.
Tentative, I begin to place strokes upon it
Each one gentle, cautious.
The dread of a mistake plagues my brush,
The
strokes appear shaky, uncertain
But the more color placed upon this slate,
The more beautiful it becomes.
This is my creation,
Mine to shape, structure.
I can portray my entire world
On this breathtaking canvas.
The colors swirl, move
They speak to me,
Saying….more.
Give me more.
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