By Sloka Kadiyala
Artists are amazing, I don't think I can ever do it,
Draw.
Making meaning out of scribbles,
Giving life to charcoal,
Color to those who’s everything is black and white.
If I’d try It’d still be black and white,
Meaningless scribbles of rage,
Taking the life out of charcoal that once lived,
The paper wouldn’t make it through,
Torn when it wasn't at fault.
Even if I manage to do it,
Draw.
Try to understand the scribbles,
Make it out of the grayscale,
Give hope to the charcoal that once had life,
A stroke would go wrong,
Too high, too low, too thin, too thick.
I’d crush the paper I once nourished.
I then would sit down and think,
How beautiful it is to be an actual artist.
By Sloka Kadiyala
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