Sitting in my solitary room,
A blank canvas of a cocoon,
Wishing that the walls were daubed with paint
To stimulate the mind, the soul, the heart.
Colours splashed in slapdash ways,
My psyche making stories from the nonsense found,
But that nonsense is my own
And in time others find their own.
So putting pen to paper surely is an answer,
Create a wall of art myself?
Doesn’t matter how it looks or where it flows,
Just start the thing
And others bring the magic to
A wall once plain and grey.
They make the story come to life,
Not you, in your tight cocoon.
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