Flying pages of this notebook
Scattered and flew far
Never saw them again
She sat and cried
That notebook, was her life
Everything she saw, felt
She wrote it there
She filled it with her everything
Pieces of the pages
Wet and damped
As it flew to its own different ways
While the rain poured
The only thing that accompanied her,
Is the darkness in the sky
And the rain that cried with her
As she sat in the corner, crying
Everything around her, hated her
No one loved her,
No one wanted her
She was unimportant
But the only thing that understood her
Was her notebook
Pages wide open,
Never complained of all the things she wrote
About of her mischief, of her feelings
Of all the tears that fell from her eyes
It just quietly accepted whatever she wrote.
Her harsh writing
The sharp point of her pen,
Piercing the defenseless paper.
But, not always does she write like this
She also shared with her notebook,
her happy memories, happenings.
The notebook just smiled with her.
Now that the only best friend she had is gone,
She can never live peacefully.
She can never be happy.
To lose the thing that is very important
Hurts so much.
For that certain thing to turn its back to you
Stabs the heart.
