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Rob Diaz-Marino

I am angry.
I want to know what
anger looks like...
all I draw are chaotic
scribbles, That isn't how
I feel. Why can't I draw
what I feel? I can
draw almost anything
when it is right in front
of me.
Scribbles will not suffice.
I have to draw people,
people cowering before a
huge, terrible, blind monster...
a child stacking building blocks, unaware
of the gigantic snake about to strike-

GO AWAY! I don't want you to
see what I have drawn. I'm sick
and tired of people barging into my
Oh yeah, knock. Give me a two-
second warning before you fling
open the door, and stand over me,
thinking to me, "Another reject of a
drawing. Of course."
I'll hide it. I don't want your
judgement, I don't want your opinion!
It's a picture of my anger. You only look
at what it is, but never at what it
means. It only means something to me!
You make it sound so obscene for
something to be only mine, to be private
only my eyes see it,
nobody else's.
I want to judge it for myself!
GO AWAY! It looks ridiculous to me
now. You think I'm strange.
I'll tear it into little pieces and
toss them in the garbage can.
THERE! Are you happy now?
Now nothing is truly mine anymore.
except the dreadful emotion that
spawned such a hideous picture!

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© 2000 Rob Diaz-Marino. All rights reserved.