I write a tiny little word.
On a smaller line of paper.
I crumble the thought I wrote.
Not thinking much of it.
Until I go through them.
All
Once
The
Me
I
Was
There
Can
Be
Letters
Again
I put together my wasted words, line by line.
Forming a sentence.
Forming a paragraph.
Forming a story.
Each beautiful letter escapes our minds - to paper, our lips - to secrets.
What if you took one away.
W uld y u still understand the
w rds.
No, because like the world, like a puzzle.
You need each one piece to make something beautiful.
YOU ARE READING
My Random Days
Short StoryBasically Poetry about random stuff and things about me. Oh and the cover of this book will change as my profile picture does.
