Well...
Do you think you could tell,
Light from the dark?
That creative spark,
Is the difference between smiles and hell.
Colorful tears in the rain,
Sighs of relief or pain?
Our ambitions just dreams?
We've got our heads in the clouds.
The critics they scream,
For us to come back down.
They claim we're wasting our time,
That free spirits will die,
Waiting for bells of success to chime.
But I continue to create,
I continue to draw.
Breathe life into fiction,
These illustrations were meant to crawl,
Off of these wrinkled pages.
Hello my creation...
I haven't seen you in ages.
To the paper I smile,
I speak ever so softly.
It really has been a while.
Ambitions once pushed aside,
Like a reignited flame,
I take a look inside.
I see the spectrum of my soul...
All the colors I know.
