Fingers itch to get on something
A single brush
Any pencil
A piece of paper
Be able to create anything
All they want is to be an instrument
A striped cord
Connecting the head to the heart
The heart to the paper
They want the chance
To be lit on fire
To carry an image
From the hand to the paper
Just one more line
Add one more color
Just complete the picture
They long to join that world
The one where the mind, heart, and hands are one
They want to create
They want to be called art
YOU ARE READING
Where am I going
ПоэзияThis is a poem on a large and small scale you might be able to relate if not I hope u like it Thank you
