I stare pencil, book, camera at hand
Ready to dwell in my own mind's eye.
At an instant without restraint I'm examined
With life full eyes
Six thousand Men without my mind.
I stop and wait for a shred of hate
Instead I get something worse
A simple question, who am I?
My immediate response only I realize,
For my mind is my own,
And my words are sealed.
They fight back with arrogant zeal
Throwing questions on a wheel.
But I ace the test and leave,
I'm now too free to paint as I please.
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