Pandora

A million half sentences,
A million made-up words,
A painting, alive,
Half dream and half fantasy,
Half illusion, half reality;
With its back resting on the wall,
Waiting, hopeful;
Watching a quiet crowd passing by
Watching itself;
Turning, the tide mirrors her
Hair, flying birds,
Raven black charcoal sketches
On a faded piece of paper,
Thoughts stretching their wings.

Endless visions escape
Out of this box: My world.

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