my pages are perforated
made and ready to be ripped out
requiring the mere strength of a thumb
blank lines yearn to be decorated
to be burdened with words scribbled down
to be tainted, painted, used, til they succumb
to the sheer force of .5mm leads
pointed, dulled and pointed again
still they sit cross-legged
at a borders outlined with red
waiting to be tainted, painted, and tainted again
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