a brilliant child artist crept lonely shades over a canvas wall
fine adult reporters swarmed his neck near the art price
one female statue eagerly asked him to describe
exactly what was going through your mind as
you created this - arguably your finest collection piece
to which his hands trembled a glass heart
understood what she wanted to hear
and greater what she couldn't
his finger lifted towards the brushstrokes his
voice replied 'that' and they hung on to get it
broke his only try with their notepad chuckle the
scratching word of what plain hid everything and nothing
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