A blank page in front of me,
just another way to express the ideas.
The pencil flows across as if alive,
words fly like birds across my page.
This is but another one of those poems.
Just like the other ones,
except completely different.
Feel the wind blow by,
fleeting like the ideas in my head.
Angels hum a bitter sweet melody,
as the chosen one awakens.
This is the hidden world,
watch as the fantasy unfolds.
The sun watches time fly by,
just so it can tell the moon hi.
This isn’t real,
it just shows how I feel.
A dark place when I’m sad,
A bright place when I’m happy.
Others cannot visit here,
A place where none can peer.
This world is a mystery,
even to me!
I am not typical,
I am unpredictable.
I would prefer to stare at the skies inside, not the dark clouds out.