from ambiguity is insight born.
minds, both clever and not,
all conceive many a thought.

in attempt to interpret,
ideas are set into motion,
building a creative notion.

through presence of equivocation,
wit is given liberty

guillotine of dried tree pulp,
with eloquent insults adorned,
beheading reputations one by one,
in a single sharp-written bite.

when the pen-wielding executioner drops the rope,

even the mighty end in baskets

at the hand of paper blades.

He sat on the cold, wooden floor,
His only source of light a dim lamp outside
He was shivering from the cold but that didn't matter
As long as his words were given life

The quiet sound of the pen hitting the paper
The notebook being the only thing he owned
Yet so treasured
A portal to the past

Some pages were torn
Seen as useless
But so truly beautiful
As they gave character to the brown notebook filled with nonsense

Exhausted with his work
He fell asleep in the middle of a word
The pen slowly tracing a line down the page
Only for it to be found, another reason to shame the boy
For that he is different

Got a second message from sgg 2 hours ago

Like hon no this isn't gonna do anything on my computer type XD

Really annoying knowing if it was my personal it would ***** something up

Guys if you get the message report as spam PLEASE