Scratch Online

There is life out there;
A coin drops into waiting hands.
Music behind closed doors.
Dirty feet on a white wall.
And the noise of you.
Hands,
Elbows.
And then you.
Pen flows, keys dance, lips take form,
And words are born.
Dance them.
They are beauty,
And our ways of life,
All life.
The door is lightly beaten,
Day after day,
Waiting for the footsteps it can hardly hear.
Wicked: Evil,
What would that be like?
Explain it all to me,
I’m beginning to forget what this is all in aid of,
Is there some higher power?
Or some form of motivation?
Inspiration.
The only thing that ever made any sense.