A blank page.
But is a blank page really  a blank page?
Every blank,empty,white page has a story.
Where.
When.
Why it was made.

I am a blank page.
I was made.
I was formed, slipped, scored, hit, slapped into the person I am today.
I have roots as my veins connecting  my whole longevity into its self.

Together we are all blank pages.
Rips in our foundations.
Flaws in our purity of white.
Red and Blue lines on our bodies.

We can erase the words, but they never fully fade.
The paper stays.
It may not be whole.
It's not perfect.
But we all have stories.

We are all a stack of paper.
You can chose your length of writing.
Your story will be biting.

Or your story will be done.
Or your story will be none.