The Blind Artist

The Blind Artist


Pencil at fingertips she

follows a line.

Scratches at the surface

that hides a

Beautiful Mind.

In desperation, Translate, tell

what it is

To Be.

Open minds to what Reveals

The secret to break

Free

She is a Blind Artist

Fumbling

for a Truth

Amidst the rapture of

Poisoned

Roots.

A frightened inner child, one with

Passion, she seeks

Don’t be lost, In prayer

Won’t it be Home she

Finds.

Don’t look, you Won’t

see, What it is,

ALive

beneath such a face.

Tight woven Trickeries

rule this model of

Grace.

Close your eye’s

quick, and seek with

Your Soul

Dont let Darkness

Tempt you

Down

Bottomless roads.

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