Canvas

These keys against my board

mark my fears and desires. 

I take the rainbow

....and make it gold streams of river.

Run down on my canvas

I play with colors of spring rain.

 

Unretro, unpreppy, unurban

Unlike you, I'm not categorized

I watch as others form into ugly paintings

Masterpiece I say master please,

what I create goes beyond expertise.

Alive, that I may be.

BUT

Is it too late?

Poetic days are the days I choke,

my breath is released on the notepad

                                                                                          Most times I think I'll choke forever,

                                                                                                I walk around half-made like a premature baby.

                                                                                                It's the "it" that makes me the way I am.

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