I like you blank paper,
You're so naive.
I'd like to corrupt you with my words,
I mean, only if that's okay.
I want to paint my masterpiece on you,
but my paint brush looks more like a pencil
and instead of getting paint on my skin,
it's ink.
You're amazing, did you know that?
You've got so many possibilities,
even though you're empty.
It's nice to know that if I make a mistake,
I won't hurt you.
I'll just dust you off and there you go
good as new.
Thanks for being there
when I'm at a loss for words.
You make me realize
what that jumbled mess I call a mind
is trying to say.
And I like that you get discolored and wrinkly as you age,
just like me.
We really are a pair aren't we?
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