Discovering Me

Staring at the canvas that's starchy white,

tarnished by charcoal smudges and regrets,

I stare ahead, 

mustering all my might. 

My slate wiped clean,

feeling anew,

I begin to write,

not quite sure what all my words mean.

As I step back,

I observe my work,

and find that writing is liberating,

I believe that I've discovered my knack.