Belongs To The Pages

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A worn out notebook

Blank pages

A mind’s best friend

A lost soul’s true companion.

Twisted words, written backwards

But the pages knew exactly

What I could not translate.

Welcoming blankness

Sweet escape

My pages of solitude

Allowed the soothing meaning,

A soul longed so desperately

To find somewhere to connect.

Inked treasure

The paper, my mirror

A worn out notebook

As alive as my soul longed to be

Freed all confusion

Absorbing the salty drops of nightmares

Turning disconnection into belonging

Belonging nowhere and everywhere

I belong where the pages wish to go.

Nida 𝔅. 🖤

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