You make me want to become a better
Writer
Words no longer pertain to you
Adjectives have lost their hue
Verbs cannot capture the grace of your movements
And nouns mean nothing
My dictionary, my dear old friend, is thin
My floor, thick with the crossed out remains of its contents
The number of pages untorn compared to the number of pages on the floor equivalent to the ratio of vowels to consonants
Perhaps I jumped the gun
It is not the words who can’t compare but
Myself
You make me want to become a better
Person
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
You make me want to become a better
Writer
Words no longer pertain to you
Adjectives have lost their hue
Verbs cannot capture the grace of your movements
And nouns mean nothing
My dictionary, my dear old friend, is thin
My floor, thick with the crossed out remains of its contents
The number of pages untorn compared to the number of pages on the floor equivalent to the ratio of vowels to consonants
Perhaps I jumped the gun
It is not the words who can’t compare but
Myself
You make me want to become a better
Person
