This is a poem inspired by anyone who writes and why they are the way they are. Sometimes they’re a bit different, and that’s okay, even if people don’t understand why.
There’s something about the girl who writes.
She sees but rarely speaks.
She thinks but rarely acts.
She pours her thoughts out onto paper because that’s where she knows that they will have the most power.
Her mind is chaotic.
Constantly moving and changing and thinking.
It doesn’t rest. It won’t sleep.
She carries her journal like child because those pages are everything.
They’re love. They’re hurt.
They’re every single emotion that she’s ever felt.
She may not share her thoughts, but nothing ever goes unsaid, unwritten.
Just know that if the girl who writes let’s you look over her shoulder as she pours her heart out onto the pages
YOU ARE SPECIAL
Cherish her.
Kiss her ink-stained hands.
Let her know that even when she does not speak, you hear her.
Tell her that her words have meaning.
That they’re not just words on paper, but they’re weapons and healers and everything in between.
The girl who writes.
She’s a chaotic beauty that knows far more than you think.
Take what she says to heart.
And never ever underestimate her power.
