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Enter The Scribbler
Canny and clear,
Creating the future
Before it appears.

Scribble me whole will you?
Staedtler me in?
Give me a purpose,
Sketch it like sin.

Smudge me in charcoal
With broad sweeping strokes;
A creation in waiting,
Only you can evoke.

Dot-to-dot my particulars,
Cross-hatch where you please.
Sharpie my curvature,
Pastel my knees.

Crayon my hair,
Scribble it wild.
Pilot red for my lips—
I shan’t feel defiled.

Stroll up my spine
With a paint-spattered finger,
Outline my contours,
Make every daub linger.

Clothe me in pixels,
Dress me just so,
Colour me tainted . . .
But never . . . let go.

 

 

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