Nimble fingers, busy hands-
A guilty head tilt off to the right
As delicate lines kiss the page.
She spends her imaginary free time in a world of her own.
Armed with a pencil,
She battles off insecurities, panic attacks and stress
And guards herself with an old white plastic eraser.
Her armor is made of the pages of her sketchbook;
The characters coming to life
Gaurding her with the shards of her own creativity.
It is in times like these where she willingly goes off into battle with a smile:
Sword and shield and muse
Against the the aching pain of tension and stress.
As she dives into the war,
Pressing graphite into souless paper,
She delves into her deepest worries.
Yet, she emerges victorious against the adversity of each day,
And she is left with a beautiful reminder of what she survived.