This paper that my pen attacks <br />Somehow has the quality <br />That everyone in this world lacks <br />It catches every tear that falls <br />And feels the shake of my anger <br /> <br />It knows exactly why <br />I love to feel cold rain <br />And why these tears heal my pain <br />No one else knows why I dance <br />To the music of the creek <br />And the tune of my sneakers <br />Against the wet street. <br />Or why a mossy mountain <br />Brings me satisfaction <br />Or how wet, gooey mud <br />Feels beneath my toes. <br />Or how I find beauty <br />In every tree that grows. <br /> <br />With every mistake I make, <br />Every wrong turn I take <br />I know that someone will always be there <br />Bliss will always hang in the air. <br />The rain gives endless hugs <br />And the sun will never judge. <br />Nothing ever changes. <br />The mountains will never walk away <br />And the green grass dances all night and day. <br />The waters still rush, the leaves still fall <br />And suddenly I have it all. <br /> <br /> <br />And although sometimes I wish <br />I had someone to understand <br />Who I really am. <br />I am not one bit ashamed <br />To call this paper, my best friend. <br />Because this once blank page, <br />Now filled with my thoughts <br />Is the only one I got. <br />The only one who will ever understand my world.<br /><br />Alyssa Marquardt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-world-58/
