As I stare at this blank page in front of me
It is like a blank canvas
I am a painter, painting pictures with my words
I wonder if people see the work I do, as I do
I always right better when the stars are out
They seem to have an impact on my pen
I wonder if anyone ever feels the same,
Just every now and then?
Sometimes I worry that I will forever be alone
But then I get my notebook,
I grab my pen
And begin to write
Write how I feel, write how I wish things were
And maybe, if not only for a moment, I do not feel alone.