First shot at poetry

[Bahdriel]

VERSION 1
The freedom of the mind escapes me.
Imprisoned by the shackles of all that is real.
The world evaporates.
Heat turns to cold, sound to silence.
Light becomes dark, becomes nothing.
All that I am and all that I could be,
Fading in a moment.
The touch of life is the touch of death.
The sands of time cascade into eternity.

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VERSION 2
The freedom of the mind escapes me
Bound by the realism on which I rely
The paintbrush finds its way to my hands
I turn yellows to blue, crisp lines become blurs
Light becomes dark, becomes nothing
My chance, fading
The canvas stays blank
A masterpiece, condemned to exist
In my mind. Forever.

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VERSION 3
The paintbrush finds its way to my hands
I turn yellows to blue, crisp lines become blurs
Light becomes dark, My chance, fading
The canvas stays blank
A masterpiece, condemned to exist
In my mind.

______________________________________
VERSION 4
The paintbrush finds its way to my hands
I turn yellows to blue, crisp lines become a blur
Light becomes dark, My chance, fading
The canvas stays blank
A masterpiece,
Condemned to my mind.