Glass Half Full

I remove the bright blue pen from my hand

Which is now covered in abstract shapes and doodles

The art I had just created somehow makes me feel complete

As I remember what my mother had nagged me about ink poisoning

I suddenly scrub it off

But now I somehow feel

A little empty

Or shall I say only half way full

I then forget about my concerns and place the inky tip of the pen to my skin

From then on I just doodle what images come into my head

Just then I realize that I'll have to wash it off again

So I remove the cold pen from my hand and scrub it all away

The feeling of expressing the art you make onto your own body compels me

But once again I feel depleted until I can draw again

This poem is about: 


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