It drips down
The sound of it splattering on paper amuses no one around
It's an annoyance to most
A minor problem to some
And then there is me
The blot drops down
Down too my paper I worked so hard on
Onto the paper with drawings straight from my heart
Onto the papers I hide from everyone
I hide them from myself sometimes
I can't bare to look at it
It's an eyesore
Just sitting there without purpose
Without him need
Without anyone wanting it
It's just
There
I stare down at it
I stare at the blue and black mess that has invaded my papers
I think about it for a moment
Wasted potential
It could have been great
No
It should have been great
By now
It's a mess
Ruining everything around it
Wasted
Potential
I love Inkblots though
They are just like me
