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Sep 2019
Paint is never quite the shade we imagined.
The lines are never straight enough.
The page always looks a little too blank.

There are perfections in every imperfection,
Buried under crossed out lines and
crumpled pieces of paper.
Every eraser-stained, college ruled notebook
full of half-baked ideas and smudged words that
just don’t quite feel right.

The final product is in there somewhere,
like black-out poetry stitched together,
patched up,
and transformed into something beautiful.

   -   x marks the spot
written for my second prompt in Creative Writing - an ars poetica
rayma
Written by
rayma  22/F/Tennessee
(22/F/Tennessee)   
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