Nothing but lonely words on my paper.
Dying to be read,
Resisting the urge to take flight.
Waiting for your eager eyes,
To unlock the secrets,
Beneath all these nothing words.
But you sit ignorant,
Of everything I’ve ever said,
Of everything that I’ve ever had to say.
Sitting letting the words flow within your mind,
Never caring,
Never wondering,
Of their hidden meaning.
So They sit unlocked and lonely,
Just like their creator.

I could blow your mind with my words,
If you could only listen.
But my words can’t change the world,
If they can’t even change your mind.
So then,
Their just these lonely words on my paper,
Dying to be read.