Paper
You are like white paper,
open and bare,
a place for stories to bloom
or dreams to disappear.
Sometimes you’re full,
alive with meaning,
other times blank,
lost in quiet, empty feeling.
Yet even in stillness,
you hold endless might
a space for creation,
a spark waiting for light.
YOU ARE READING
I'M REALLY TRYING
PoetryPoems and reflections of a human that doesn't know where she belongs
