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I'm nothing but a scrap of paper pushed between the pages of a book.
Words surround me every day, pressuring me
I believe those words, because they're the only words
That I have around me to believe.

Every day it's new words, but sometimes
Sometimes I stay between the same two pages
I'm stuck. Someone help me.
After what seems like a hundred days,
He finally picks the book up again

And sets me aside so he can see those words
That push against me every day.
There's nothing else that I wish to be
Something that is not thin and with no heart.

I'm stuck between pages again.
With new words that surround me.
You're beautiful.
Everything about you is wonderful.

I'm everything a scrap of paper could be.
I'm colorful and bright and sometimes
Sometimes I like to smile
Just to show that I'm happy with being a scrap of paper.





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Crash. said...
Sept. 15, 2010 at 4:54 pm
This is really great, and well written and a topic few understand. 
 
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