Blank Pages

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Four white walls all around in purgatory;
They're the blank pages that stare at me, waiting to take off on an adventure;
A single black line on one of the walls beckons my call;
And I begin to unravel it--
That one piece of thread of creativity in my head from that big ball of yarn

Constantly picking at it like a scab, it itches;
The walls begin to crack, leaving the words to come together as I etch them in stitches;
I can't stop it now; a river it becomes, flowing out of my mouth;
Deep in thought, the movie in my head reels out

Those once blank pages are now filled with endless stories;
Without living vicariously through my creation--my characters, my life seems sort of boring;
The pen's now in my hand as I continue to write;
Also in my hand is the ticket to this journey of mine;
I must go and take off on an adventure just as my stories do and take flight

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