By Olivia Tiffin, TIWP Student
You scratch my pages with ink and fill them with words.
You write down many things, some similar, some different.
But every time, the sharpness of your tip dies down
with dark black words that dry permanently soon after.
I have one question for you:
what is the meaning of ruining the perfect blank canvas that I am,
but to fill it with words and meanings I don’t understand?
Sometimes you will fill my pages with something different,
a form or shape to go with the infinite flow of thoughts pressed into my pages.
But it makes no difference to me
as a story is a story.
Nothing can change that.
It will always have its differences
whether I like them or not.
