RoaringLeo

You, Complex-- Consider blank square in front of you; Already perfect in itself Only waiting for you to soil it. To derive a labyrinth of graphite, a city of values and textures As you project your imperfect mind onto the whiteboard Juxtapose the two entities Untouched perfection; a state in which you cannot recreate Prune the fruit that cannot be produced And then proceed to tell me --I, Simple.