I open the doors to my mind through a piece of paper,
Drawing, Sketching, it does not matter,
So long as I am the creator.
Be it sadness, happiness or rage,
I express myself on that lovely blank page.
I watch that page slowly come alive,
And it revives me from within,
Art is how I cope with what I hold inside.
When I am without hope,
A blank sheet of paper is who I confide in.
When I am lost in the world . . .
I lose myself in creating one.
