The Creative Eye

Trying to turn this whiteness into colour The ideas don’t come the blankness just stares at me Laughing at my frail attempts to cover it up My brush skims the surface time and time again The marks do not make any sense They confuse and annoy me There is only one way out of this stalemate I grab the whiteness with both hands I rip, tear, throw, punch and kick until the whiteness is no-more Then I retake my seat and look down The darkness just stares back at me and laughs