I find myself with a pencil in hand,
The paper before me.
My fingers itching to draw,
And ready to write.
Yet there's no idea in mind,
Nothing to bring to life on the sheet
My mind is closed from the wonders it knows.
The pencil then drops,
And I feel defeat.
The page is blank and begging for life.
Open your mind, let if be free.
To have and know, every bit of creativity.
The world in there, it's bursting forth.
So pick up the pencil,
And let it all be free.