The strokes of a pencil against paper

Is like a lonely performance

Of a dancer on a dance floor

Often accompanied by an eraser

Often accompanied by a crew of prismacolors

The eraser,

Not to dance with the pencil

Rather,

To fix its mistakes

Turn the wrong moves

into a work of art

The prismacolors,

To pack in more feelings or emotions

That an outline alone

Could never accomplish

Like books

Or novels

Art is something

That can tell a story

Not with words

Rather, with intricate lines

Carefully organized into something

Beautiful

It may not be something immediate

But the longer you look,

The more you can comprehend

And the diction the picture uses

Becomes clearer

The red blood of pain

The blue tears of sorrow

The yellow sparkle of happiness

The black hole of emptiness

Sometimes,

Art can make you feel something

That most novels can’t

What novels can do

Is make you feel sympathy

But what art can do

Is make you feel empathy

Not all story’s have art

But all art has a story