-Reflections-

By
I stare into the white abyss
of my canvas.
My psyche screams in pain,
my fingers itch to capture the sound,
placing it into the white abyss,
but my fingers cannot [will not?] move.
They only hover
[An uncertain child by the swings
hesitant to join the others].
I want to speak!
I want to show the sounds within me,
but my fingers are bound
[Invisible hands hold them shut;
I cannot pull them free].
What is holding me back?
Is it my fear,
my hurt,
my anger,
or simply
my own inadequacy?





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