My Magic

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.