A stroke of color says it all,
What always have been held.
A mind of chaos burn these walls,
Erupting everything I have felt.
There lies these parts of me,
That were better left hidden.
A mosiac of grief and glee,
Feelings I always tagged forbidden.
But as I hold this thought in hand,
My mind no more seem all blank.
Motion starts to build the spark,
And I don't quit until it's dark.
Soon the dementors scare away,
As your patronus comes to life.
Art becomes your act of Magic,
You find your salvation your inner light.