77 parts Complete I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! 
"My Escape" 
I have a supply, 
In the closet near my bed, 
Of past memories, 
Hanging by a thread. 
A thread, 
Connected to my mind, 
That thread, 
Just follows me around.
I have a hole, 
In the middle of my heart, 
That hole fills up, 
When someone's torn apart. 
I have a tear, 
Accompanying my lonely eye, 
Knowing, whenever I'm alone, 
I can sit in a corner and cry. 
Even though,
These things are there, 
I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen,
To care. 
I write and write, 
To my heart's desire, 
New feelings erupt, 
By the hour. 
Writing is, 
My one escape, 
In this cruel and careless world, 
I have the power, to awake.
"A Story Without Words" 
A story told, 
In a little tune, 
A golden smile, 
And a shining tear, 
Rolling down my cheek. 
A little breeze, 
The nice sun, 
A marvelous day, 
Turned into a wet one. 
The memories dripped, 
Down on my cotton white shirt, 
Leaving stains, 
On my malicious heart. 
Your smile, 
Worth a thousand words, 
Can't cheer up 
This depressive mind. 
A storm bewildered, 
Your indecisive mind, 
Drowning me, 
In my reckless thoughts. 
A rainy day, 
A gleaming lie, 
A story not told, 
With words 
Nor sounds. 
This story is, 
But a mere thought, 
In this universe 
We share, 
Every night. 
This story is, 
A withering storm, 
Drifting off, 
In this careless soul. 
This story is, 
Not told with sounds, 
But a never ending blow, 
Of swirling emotions, 
Bottled up inside.