White Paper

Blank, silly, lifeless
Your days are grey and your nights are black

Your face holds no pink cheeks nor colorful eyes 

Can you not feel the Red apple blossoms and their scent filling the lungs of the 

Orange breasted birds as they flee silently into the Yellow sun beams, 

warming faces and snouts, and beaks of the animals on the

Green soft Earth we've beaten and driven insane, and the blanket of 

Blue smooth sky that provides a crayola Violet sunset, lightly painted with delicate hands

while Indigo mud heals the broken bones of the wild?

But you are so white, so transparent, and pale

Your emotions are 50 shades of an monochromatic color
Light grey, grey, grey, grey, white

You give no inspiration as you sit on your other white face

I try to fill you with rainbows of imagination and freedom

But you, my paper, you absorb only grey
You give only false light, and
On your own you accumulate to a white nothingness

A white noise heard by a artist who's stuck.