This Page Was Blank
This page was blank
Until I went and typed on it
Like throwing black paint
Onto a blank canvas
Or pouring petrol
Onto new snow.
Either way
This page
Is now not blank
And I am the cause.
Strange
I feel, sort of
Guilty.
Like I’m tarnishing
The bleached and pulped wood.
But maybe
I’m giving it a purpose.
What use is a BLANK page
Anyway.
And who spend their time
Staring at a white canvas?
New snow
Was meant to be stepped it
To have angels
All over the street
This is not something
I should feel guilty for
Because
I
Am
Saintly
For
Making
This
Once-blank
Page
Amazing.
