My notebook is running out of pages

It’s wrinkled, torn, in its final stages

I wish I’d been more thoughtful

I wish I’d been more careful

With what messy, scribbled words
I’ve written down over the ages

But I’ve written what was present in my mind at the time

And to do anything else would be something of a crime

I’ve pushed aside more “important” things

To run my pen down the metal rings

That bind the sheets of paper as I try to find the phrase

To describe my thoughts in such a way that someday will amaze

High school students as they sit in lamplight in their friendly cage

In their hands they’ll hold my soul on a freshly printed page

That is just the starting stage of a bright and brand new age