Blank Sheet of Paper

My mind is like a blank sheet of paper,
that’s been written on,
erased and crumpled up
over and over then tossed into a bin,
only to be retrieved and written on again
then gets erased, crumpled up and tossed.
Ideas come and go but they don’t stick around.

Remnants of Childhood

I don’t usually remember
what it was like to be a child.
Like a flower just starting to blossom.

I often forget
what it feels like to truly let go
of expressing myself.
I embraced myself.
I was obsessed with finding my strength.
I didn’t think anything was wrong with me.
I was the best me I could possibly be.

As a child,
my sole interest was being happy.
And I was.
I was happy.
I lived my life to the fullest,
everyday I lived my life
like it was golden.

Everyday I woke up with a new purpose,
a new meaning, ready to make a new discovery.

I remember my childhood.
The good times outweighed the bad.
Love surrounded me,
a love so strong
I still feel it to this day
whenever I dig deep into my past
I remember when I was a child.