A blank canvas lies within my inner being.
Untouched, not a single drop of ink is seen.
Out of all the others, you have chosen me,
To help at times of need.

Scribbling frantically, I'm your venting board.
Sounding off you hope for some miracle cure,
To the unanswered questions of an uneased heart,
Unknowingly erasing all the words I try to start.

Finally conclusions are reached, I've served my purpose.
Spirits now lifted, you look upon my worn out surface,
Without another thought you toss me to the cold floor.
Like some trash you'd rather ignore.

Now a recycled canvas, slightly used.
Placed on a shelf for the next round of abuse.
My soul lies in waiting for that fateful day,
When life has been cruel to you once again.