The Machine

Chats with friends.

A song on the radio.

A YouTube video or TV show.

A play.

I can find all the inspiration I need.

It flourishes naturally, no effort required.

My mind is a kaleidoscope, swirling with many

images and colors.

It is an open door, eagerly inviting inspiration inside.

There it steps into The Machine

and it becomes perfected.

It is stretched and pulled and painted like crazy.

Things are taken, added, modified.

The assembly line sticks things together:

characters, vocabulary, plot; it has it all!

And when the whole thing is done, the inspiration is

reborn an idea.

A beautiful, wonderful idea.

That is the miracle of The Machine.

It works efficiently.

All it needs to do is watch a video, or

chat with someone, or

experience the stage light, or

listen to a tune.

It is then when The Machine will start over.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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