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.