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Paper
Words upon its face.
Drawings resting on its flesh.
Lines stretching across
row after row.
Holes on its side
stabbing metal on through.
Stacking one on top of the other.
Books filled.
Notebooks ready with its contents.
Its body,
covered with marks.
Red and blue
being the only true colors.
Bonded in groups,
yet can never have enough.
Drifting away with written words
when the wind blows strong.
Showing love, hate,
and friendship as well.
Paper.
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Favorite Quote:
To love is to be vulnerable; Triumph is born out of struggle; We notice shadows most when they stand alone in the midst of overwhelming light.