Nothing's The Same

And nothing would have ever moved,
that pen would have shed no ink,
that book would have stayed blank,
those lips would have no one to thank,
that mind would have no where to get lost in,
that stubborn heart would have no battle to win,
that morning would have been lifeless and dull
that coffee's effect void and null
that lamp would have stayed dark as the night
shady like her soul when the story lay untold
that page would have never been scrawled upon
and torn out and crumpled and fallen victim to her anger
but somehow in the confines of the bin
away from it's perfect white state, it brings no feeling of failure
just a clean slate
That hand wouldn't hurt as much as it did
that neck would never have had to know pain
but all of this would have come true
if she hadn't fallen in love, madly and insane
for in love, she is driven to write simple, plain
easy and well, and with nothing to gain
but the knowledge that her words don't go in vain.
In her new blank journal she begins,
for her lover, her prince charming
her fairtytale.