A World
By Annie
Published 22 September 2011
With each flick of my brush,
The paint goes
Splish, splat, splot.
My imagination contains me;
Its hand reaches out and slowly drags me;
It fabricates a safety barrier for me
Where screaming dark spirits can’t find me.
I start to etch a world onto the canvas.
Lively curved lines begin to dance.
Intense soot-black hue violently clash with pearl-white paints,
As a soft sky-blue willingly merges into a raging-ocean blue.
I can feel the rough textures of the overlapping paint
As abrupt tones are slapped onto the canvas.
Happiness carves through me
Like a contagious plaque.
Nobody else matters anymore
As my canvas, my world, becomes alive.
Art is the feeling of a blind man seeing the sun for the first time;
The smell of freedom.
Art is my world.
