I love the depths of my creativity -
My abyss of imagination
That lives with the creatures in my head.
The way paintbrushes can be weapons
To all of the worry in the world
And the anxieties within myself.
How colors transform into ammunition and beauty,
Swiped across the canvas and my heart
Moving not only pigments,
but also the people around me.
Leaving the present behind,
My fingers on the keys of a flute,
Or a piano
The rhythm of my thoughts is soothed
Becoming as sweet as harmony,
Or as smooth as jazz
Generating songs like shooting stars -
My wishes are granted
As smiles emerge.
Expressing myself is my addiction,
My fuel, and my purpose
The best thing about me.