White, blank, void, Stretching out before me. Unblemished and unsoiled, By the bias of humanity. Inky, blank, words, Unraveling behind me. Onwards I am spurred, To spill my thoughts for you to see. This page was pristine, Like an untouched palette. Until my words were freed, Marking it like stained velvet. I'll etch each verse with care, So that they may not fade. Each word is more unclear, Because their meaning's ill portrayed. The purpose of this piece, Of these disconnected rhymes, Is so all expextations cease, And I may build them up in time.