PANGS OF CREATIVITY

As and when 
He would hire
A brush, to sip
Depth of paints,
The ragged canvas
To orb the soul.
A little imagery
Peeps, from
Behind the ledger
Debiting the remaining
Dripping skin, hanging
For a moment
In touch of bones.
Ridicule NOT
The throat Lump
Which gathers huge.
One day the same
Pangs of pain, will
Make you all,
The receiver; to smile
On all fronts
Silence beyond!