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Pouring my heart out to a piece of paper, Always listens Never judges. Royal blue ink soaks up the raw emotion, Comforting, Holds no grudges.
Hi guys. So recently you may or may not have noticed that I haven't posted for a while.. Well the truth behind it is that I've been ill, erm mentally ill.
A new year. A fresh start. A clean slate. A willimg heart. A new year. For you and me. Full of suprises. For us to see. A new year. This one was good. I loved it all. Like a should. But this year.
I was thinking of an idea; it is a rather peculiar idea. The thought once struck me as a basis thought, but it carried on pestering me in different forms for a while longer.
Write in me, Confide in me. Secure me tightly, Hide me. Scrawl your hopes and dreams in me, Sign me with your name. Tell embarrassing moments to me, Without an inch of shame.
Plato did it, so I can as well. Extending thoughts about things unknown, things unheard of before this time. Getting inspiration from those like Socrates and refusing to preach it.
I keep a little book, Where I write every word That I place on my Opuss So that they can be read and heard. But it's beginning to get full. And I'm starting to run out of ink.
Notebook notebook, Fill me with words. Notebook notebook, Dreams to go unheard. Notebook notebook, Tiny cramped writing. Notebook notebook, A wonderful sighting. Notebook notebook, Poems and stories.
Setting pen on paper , It relieves so much. You just lose yourself. The moment the pen delicately hits the page , the ink splashes down the stories come out.
" I am doing things that are true to me.