A blank page,a white sheet of paper,a pen,and its ink.
I write,I write because its flows easily.
The pen and its ink,the paper and its emptiness;
all together form a flawed combination. The paper is no longer blank, no longer the color of a fresh blanket of snow,
there are stains of the black night sky,the page is filled.
A blank page,a white sheet of paper, a pen and its ink. This writing,of all sorts can be used for good,bad, to create a feeling or an emotion of happiness or sorrow, or to simply create a feeling entirely your own. You may change the color of the page by painting a written picture. You may bend,mend,send and befriend these words, your words; our words.
You may simply make it your own.
YOU ARE READING
Utensils
PoetryThe color of the abyss,of ink and pen,of fluffy snow.What does it mean? I don't know,go read a book or just simply take a look.
