What if I told you
that the truest form of love
doesn't come from anything
or anyone, even your special someone

What if I told you
that the truest love
is loving yourself
without wanting to change a thing
and to just accept who you are

What if I told you
that once you accept yourself
then you can truly love others
and those dearest you

The lead of the pencil hits the paper
as white as snow
the mind full of wonders
being splashed like paint on a canvas
with details slowly filling in the picture
like a puzzle with movie scenes on each piece
to escape, this is my place of freedom
stuck inside a spiral bound notebook
to be opened by many
page after page
idea after another
this is my love
my passion
poetry
my emotions and thoughts
flowing effortlessly on these pages
from cover to cover
book to book

My teacher asked all to write a poem
and to turn it in before the class ends
I don't know what to write about
except what others may
so I tell you this
that I do like this assignment
yet I don't because I can't just write a poem from thin air
for something must come to me
I am slowing down for I do not know
what else to write
I can tell you this
that this is an hour where I become hungry,
sometimes very hungry that
my stomach growls when its silent
dead silent
I guess I have more to write about than I thought
Then again its just thoughts that are coming
to my mind and spilling on to this sheet of paper
now full of words
the class is almost over
making the time fly by writing
I don't know how to end this poem
except say a few more words
one hour closer to lunch