I take a piece of everything with me
I draw inspiration from the black line on the canvas,
An incomplete artwork waiting for the next person to ink a curve in the delicate weave
So I take your words and I remember
I remember your thoughts and wishes and I twist them into my own
I become an amalgamate of something foreign
But also something as recognizable as home
Warm and cold to create a tornado
A tornado of questions and dreams
It twists and turns until I finally make it to the eye of the message
That's waiting on a canvas for me
But by the time I make it to the artwork I love, the drop of ink left incomplete
I find that this canvas was made for not an amalgamation, but me
So as the it turns the dust and blows away I am left with an epiphany
That in the eagerness to complete what was, I rushed all the collecting, made it the only step
That in the end I was too different to complete what was made only for the original me
