it's leather and smells like glue.
I wrote this post last night, please enjoy
I cannot change the things that you've done
I can only write on new pages
empty, blank, only lines filling in
a place where I can begin.
though these should be your pages
you just allow them to rot
to sit alone and ponder an empty future
while you read old pages
and fill your life with rubber shavings.
you have so many utensils
pens, crayons, pencils
yet you do not know how to hold them.
you never give a scribble
in fear of wasting space
you hold your head so high
yet you cannot find any grace.
never fear an empty page
fill every book with thought
do not keep your silence for long
but do not forget when you should hold your tongue.