Inside Out

I sit in my room, with the radio on, letting my mind run the pen in my hand. The words are unclear as many pieces of paper are being scribbled on, torn apart, rewritten until I like what I hear. The vast imagination the mind has, led these words to paper, and emotion into thought and into words as I bring them to you here. The pen that I hold in my hand, that I carefully picked out to write these words, now lays on the empty desk, awaiting another time for imagination. Another time, for peace of mind, to sit, recall, reminisce about the past, present and future. The emotions that run wild inside four walls of descriptive paintings have been unleashed again, not as defined as before. Yet these words continue to open many doors.