• Here, in front of me, another blank page
    Just waiting to be written or drawn on
    Words to explain life
    Images to describe it
    But how do I fill this page?
    Its never is enough to just tell you how much it hurts
    Its never is enough to show you how I feel
    So here I am, trying to fill this blank page
    But still, you will never know how I feel
    You will never see how much it hurts
    Because this page, this blank page, says everything
    I have no need for words or drawings
    I don’t need to fill this empty space
    It says it all; nothing says how I feel like an empty sheet of paper
    Words and drawings just stain it
    They put a layer of something, not needed, on top of what really hurts
    So now, as I write, filling of this blank sheet of paper
    I understand that all I am doing is hiding what I really feel
    So, this empty piece of paper, this blank sheet, says everything about me
    What does it say about you?