Author: Bench


the blank piece of paper sleepily stares me in the face,
calling my attention to the fact that it is blank.
and it yawns and it stretches,
its lines pulsating to every move it makes.
it becomes alive, enraged, beautiful.
it beckons me to touch it and make a difference.
it shuddered at my touch and i shaped it into more beautiful things.

sometimes i wonder if I am like God?


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