Is writing a gift,
Or is it a curse?
I could be a doctor, a lawyer, a nurse,
But i chose to be a disgrace instead.

I sit in my room, writing nonsense
That no one's ever gonna read.
Random words, without any context
Among other plants, a simple ****

A normal person sees this as a waste of time,
Takes away my notebook
Little did they know, it was the only thing keeping my sanity intact.

He sat on the cold, wooden floor,
His only source of light a dim lamp outside
He was shivering from the cold but that didn't matter
As long as his words were given life

The quiet sound of the pen hitting the paper
The notebook being the only thing he owned
Yet so treasured
A portal to the past

Some pages were torn
Seen as useless
But so truly beautiful
As they gave character to the brown notebook filled with nonsense

Exhausted with his work
He fell asleep in the middle of a word
The pen slowly tracing a line down the page
Only for it to be found, another reason to shame the boy
For that he is different

I think I love you
More in my mind
Than I do
In real life .

The way you smile,
I don't know why,
But I romanticize you.
In my mind your perfectly mine.

I have a story,
A perfect script for you to follow.
Like a romcom I wrote
But that's not real.

I not a realistic person.
I want perfection.
Your not perfect.
Neither am i.

I put my pen to paper
as I leave half my worries behind

Vomited the words I once engulfed,
as I realised,
they were always mine.

When male penguins like a female penguin they scower the entire beach looking for the perfect pebble and present it to her like a proposal.
I want a rock
A pebble
So small but big enough to fill the entirety of my heart.
My heart.
I'm told that one person cannot be your missing peice
I'm not sure if i'm in love with the pebble, but maybe the idea of someone giving it to me.
I'm not in love with the Penguin, but the idea of what he represents.
Someone to walk with me through thick and thin and breathe my air.
Someone to sit next to me during a scary movie.
Someone to hold my hand under the table and giggle about a joke that no one understands but us
Someone to give me a pebble
But pebbles don't fill that void
that hole
Pebbles can only do so much
I can collect pebbles like Pokémon cards, but I will never fill that hole
Because a pebble can't be all of you
No person
No rock
Nothing but god alone can fill the void that lingers in my soul
But yet I continue to dig and dig and dig and dig
for the pebble that's perfect for me
But a pebble isn't what I need