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A poetic description of how my mind works when I am being creative. |
| My mind's a new volcano, with magma down below. Building forceful images which have no place to go. As pressure builds within me, erupting from the core. Like lava words flow freely not hindered anymore. Like trees my hair is parted, to make a brand new path. Slowly, rising, ever flowing, the world can feel my wrath. My temperature increases, with every passing minute. Now it's time for all to see what my mind has in it. Flowing toward my fingers, pressed gently o'er the keys. My fevered poem now written, puts my mind at ease. |