I am an artist of the mind,
I swim through a vast sea of words,
Carefully selecting the ones that best paint my story,
Nobody truly knows me,
I paint myself as a happy, studious, well-rounded individual,
It acts as my invisibility cloak and forms a barrier between me and others,
My pen is the gateway,
Occasionally opening to my inner being,
Dropping crumbs of my mental existence onto thin white sheets of time and space,
As I get older my gate will rust and fall apart,
It is then that I must make the decision to either mend my gate,
Or let my crumbs continue to fall into time and space,
Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock!,
What will my future be?