An idle hand, upon a blank canvas,
Jumbled thoughts, undeciphered.
Every word holds a purpose,
Changing in correspondence to another.
The liability of every word uttered from my mouth,
Why should I let such a thing out?
Expression brings change; silence is safe,
Quiet allows myself to be erased.
The world stares upon me, prepared to judge,
All my work will be undone.
I have learned a way to phrase,
Ensuring you will stay.
But in our reserve,
I feel the world we created begin to curve.
What was the purpose?
When reality will resurface?
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About the Creator
Alex Lee
High school student, writing about anything within free time.
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