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Waiting for Creativity
Blank.
Blank paper.
Blank paper waiting.
Just waiting
To be filled
With color
Or ink.
Waiting to be the canvas
For all the unseen images.
Waiting for that first stroke
Or line,
Or mark,
That initiates
A masterpiece.
Waiting to be the table
Where a thousand beautiful thoughts
Are spread for the world to see
To hear
And to know.
Waiting to witness
And be a part of
Something amazing,
Revolutionary,
Inspiring,
Unique.
Waiting for you
To create,
To shine,
To help,
To amaze.
Waiting for you to contribute
Something that will change
You,
Me,
The World,
Everything.
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I was just thinking about how writing and artwork and all the masterpieces ever created came out of someone's brain somewhere at sometime. I want this poem to portray the idea that everyone has unique, amazing, and beautiful things inside them that they can show others by creating it and portraying it in a way the world can see. Who knows, maybe something you create could change the world. But you'll never know until you put that pen or pencil or marker or whatever down on paper or canvas and start creating. The blankness is just waiting for you, calling to you, to create.