Hiding a crippling need for approval. I always wondered what a. Paper town would look like. With buildings made of cheap. Cardboard, with windows cut. Into them, and awnings created. With thermocol and glue, and. Cellophane paper for glass, in. Colours like blue, green, and. Cherry red, colouring the insides. Of the paper houses with hues. That looked like what crime. Class would, and I finally knew. What a paper town looked like.

8220;If you gave me a chance I would take it,. Soul is etched with scars that never seem to heal. The mind is a die hard procrastinator,. Persisting to live without name, love or valor. What are you waiting for, some sign? Perplexed and all out of breath.

We seek for Heaven yet we refuse die. Tomorrow when I see us. In the future that is yet to come. I want to be your reflection on the ocean. And you being the Sun.

People come and tell me that oh babe any teenager can write such poems and stories and I always reply in silence. I want to tell them no I want to shout that what Writing means to me. it is not a hobby. This is what I live for. Pouring out my feelings on paper is my remedy. I write about that blind girl who wants to study but she cannot. But again as they say.

Sorting out my pieces and trying to get them together. My spine has been stroked by many. My pages have been gazed upon multiple times. Frustrated, you keep me aside. You pull at your hair wondering how easily someone else had read me, had understood me.