I am the notebook that is never
The same,
Always changing,
Always different.
I am the one
The girl clutches
To her chest
As terror
Consumes her,
Be it
The first day
At a new school,
Or the day she
Gets taken away
From her
Mother forever.
I am thrown
On the floor
In anger,
From not being
Able to find the
Right words.
I am left
On the bus,
My owner
In such a hurry
She left me
Behind, alone
And scared.
I am the
Notebook
That waits
On a shelf,
Yearning for
Someone
To pick me up,
Take me home,
And fill me with words.
I am the notebook,
Thrown into the closet
And buried under
Blankets,
In an attempt
To prevent an
Angry mother
From reading
The pain stained
Pages.
6 ways to look at a notebook
