By Benjamin Shapiro

Some days I wonder

Why I even try;

As about I do blunder

I want to cry,

But then there’s a moment

That fills my heart

And extinguishes torment:

When I create art.

Whole worlds on a page

Made up of ether,

Heroes without age,

Without fault, neither.

You see a blank screen

I see potential

A world once unseen,

Made of powers mental.

This place where I form,

This purpose in life,

Quiets the storm

And frees me from strife.

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