Paper without a pen

​Maybe paper exists only for the pen,

Yearning to be marked by it

Drenched in its ink within a few moments

Forever carrying its scratches & scribbles.
All it takes is a mini-catharsis though

A shot of new-age individualism maybe;

Stories don’t always come from outside & beyond

The best ones are often found within.
A fold here & tuck there

Shifting forms yet still the same

Choosing from being the medium or the story

The choice is always your own.


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