The Artist

There were times he wished he could make the lines on the page disappear. They laughed at him. Told him how to express himself. Blocked his thoughts, which a blank surface would have beckoned forth. Strangled him until the time was up.

He was told the page was empty, but all he could see was a page filled with lines.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s