The Blank Page

You are quite a lot to take in at once, blank sheet of paper. Like a baby, there are so many things you can grow up to be. A poem is a fun one. All random words, nonsense, babble. You can be sweet nothings sent to a secret crush. You can be venomous poison sent to a jealous lover. You could be a beautiful song or a suicide note. A quick hello or a quick goodbye.

Don't miss me when I'm gone.
Wish you were here.

You could be as ordinary as a grocery list or as complex as a thesis.

The possibilities are endless.