• You know, a few months ago,
    A couple of nameless faces tossed a
    Crumpled piece of paper onto the asphalt,
    And walked on uncaring.
    Rather than reprimanding them for their
    Lack of respect for the world we live in,
    I picked up this paper and gently uncrumpled it,
    I saw that it was still blank.

    I could've been,
    Angry, frustrated, agonized,
    But instead I put it in my pocket,
    Because it can still be something beautiful.
    I got home and brought out the roller,
    It took several minutes and a couple sweaty elbows,
    But getting a fresh piece of paper
    Was not an option.
    Something thrown away,
    Treated like garbage,
    Ought to be made beautiful,
    Don't think?

    I grabbed a couple of pens and,
    Got straight to work,
    Pouring my imagination
    And never getting tired.
    Even when the ink splattered
    All over my hands,
    I still didn't stop.
    To give up would be sin.

    Because I can turn those smudges
    Into abstract art,
    I can make those wrinkles
    Spider webs of magic.
    Even though others thought that
    It wasn't worth a damn,
    I said ,"No!"
    It can still be something beautiful.

    You calling me crazy?
    Crazy over this scrap,
    This piece of crap,
    Thinking that ugly is eternal?
    You are the crazy ones,
    You have no vision,
    No indecision,
    You don't recognize the world around you.
    Don't think about those surrounding you,
    Don't hear the songs you listen to,
    Don't realize that they're about you,
    Don't appreciate the silence,
    Never write thoughts in the quiet,
    And yet you call me crazy.

    Crazy. Dumb. Stupid.
    If those are the words that
    Define a man who believes that
    Beauty is as simple as
    A family dancing on their driveway to the radio,
    An ocean of power breaking over the cliffs,
    A couple of kids selling lemonade,
    Just like in the cartoons I used to watch,
    Back when it was worth waking up early on Saturdays.
    A busy street alive with energy,
    A quiet park full to the brim with peace,
    A man who follows virtues long forgotten
    Like honor and respect.

    Do you look at the sky and call it beautiful?
    Do you think about the city lights and calm nights,
    And consider those who fight the wrong and
    Stand up for your rights?
    Do you think that maybe,
    With some effort, passion,
    Will, and dedication,
    That this piece of paper can be beautiful?
    Let me show you,
    Show you the smudges I made abstract splats,
    The wrinkles I made threads of my magic power,
    It will be so beautiful,
    You will stare for two seconds, wake up,
    And stare about the world around you.