The scent I miss
Not for reasons of bliss
But simply this

The scent of old paper
To read a new caper
Or of the candlestick maker

So many worlds to explore
You even had a second floor
I miss you old bookstore

Don’t judge a book by its cover,
judge a book by its scent.

The way to discover the truth of the paper
is by embracing its broken youth
through the aroma of its past caretaker.

There are days
when nothing bothers me.
There are days
when I don't know what to write.
And...
I am just thankful to pen and paper
for always being there for me.

I keep my head aloft, from the mist I breath,
Facing the demons dancing with me,
adamant to hear nor see with a blind eye,
weary of clobbering the paper heart inside,

People these days,
Always "that's wrong" and "that's right,"
But what are your thoughts?

What is wrong?
What is right?
Test answers?
Video games?

Do people really know
What those labels mean?
Right, wrong,
They're just words.

Words on a piece of paper.
Words flitting from mouths.
Words flung about casually,
that, in truth, have no meaning.

So, I'm asking you,
Teachers and students and parents,
Am I right?
Or wrong?