Canvas and easel
a familiar figure
more comforting than your own
sitting perfectly still

It's the feeling of expressing
the feeling of creating
always being in control

No longer harboring
these images in my mind
though i let them out
only in solitude

I can never accurately
put into words
how this dejection
consumes me

These walls feel like a tomb
binding my spirits at their lowest
introverted sounds too kind
but these brush strokes never lie

The only explanation that i have
my only way of finding solace

One can only want for so long
before one must have something
if creation fails me
destruction will prevail

You will be my reality
You will make me feel something
You will make me feel like god

There are no actions
there are only reactions
frantic panic
where am I
what have I done here

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