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Strokes of Brilliance

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O Professor, how I find myself lost in frustration’s portrait,
Unending efforts to overcome bland, simplistic thoughts
In my constant attempt to get an expression from you.
Be it one of acceptance, satisfaction, any and all above.

I tirelessly contemplate new approaches to every assignment,
Only to suffer self-defined artist’s block.
As you seem indifferent, entrapped in thoughts of a vast insight
I could never relate to, lacking the intellectual symmetry.

Colors and lines soar throughout my relentless mind;
While that and so much more are subject to your ingenious will.
Each puzzle, crossword or not, always an insult to your intelligence,
As I struggle with the easiest of artistic endeavors.

So I remain silent, a Mona Lisa of solitude in your room.
Never catching your eye, stoic is my nature.
Music leaving me inspired to continue my feeble efforts
Like a bird with clipped wings trying to fly.

I lament my frustration; you laugh a weary laugh.
Decisively picking your words with which to address me,
I feel drawn out trying to search for meaning
In your philosophical statements meant to help.

I slowly progress through my day,
A solemn still life in every room I fall into.
My mind entrapped in an artistic labyrinth
Of which you are the Minotaur.

Your impatience with my inability to progress as an artist
Feeds my inner turmoil, with my realism and self-drive
To aspire to greatness no matter what I’m doing,
Like a clash of colors leaving me feeling gray, bleak.

Alas, this day comes to an end.
I walk out of your room,
And look back with a sudden realization,
How I’ve never been more challenged mentally than I’ve been by you.

Your class a pause in life,
A reflection of the true nature of the world around us;
A looking glass into a world that goes unnoticed daily.
So I venture on, a unique awareness instilled in me.



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