The line

I watch the line form slowly,
As it leaves a long black trail,
A thick and thin apocalypse,
A gap between the rails,
A dark forbidden painting,
Shading in light realms,
An abstract story is being told,
As the pencil is straightly up held,
No boundaries are set tonight in my world,
Creativity flows through my finger tips,
Untold tales are drawn in a blur,
And I express the thoughts on my lips,
Footsteps echo in this desolate place,
Invasions are crowding my mind,
The pencil is how I express myself,
Through this life is all these lines,
The lines can be pressed harder,
Making darkness in its wake,
Light brush of the pencil shading,
Just in case a mistake is made,
The white pebble clutched tightly,
between my fingers tame,
And as I finish wiping over my world,
The papers my canvas again.