Every year I receive something similar,
Apart from expectations – people think
I can pen down my thoughts.
It comes wrapped in different shapes and sizes,
some hand-made, some glossy
but they all contain the blank canvas.
With hopeful eyes they look at me
thinking I’ll use my pen as a sword, unleash it all.
Sometimes I look back and smile at them
for they have faith in something other than themselves.
Sometimes I think how foolish they are – to trust me
to trust me with words – unarmed, painful mutinies
but every time I unwrap, the artist and the art cry out
one in silence one with glee.