The scratching of pencil on paper
The darks marks of lead left behind
The beautiful image now there floating.
Creativity sprouting like a flower wallowing
in an apartment windowsill. Memories that
travel back from the future, and a girl with
headphones blasting in her ears. Hidden in
the corner like a dancer at mardi gras.
Yet she feels every stroke of her pencil
sending passion through her body.
Scribbling down the things that come
through her dreams. She can be so easily
judged and pushed away from others.
Remember to never judge a book by
its cover or else the book might become the cover.