She is a pen
and a paper entwined,
she's her words
and some exclamations thrown in between
She is some fiction
and a lot of poesy too.
And she may have her bad days, be weird
and sad, but mostly she is true.
She's strange with her ideas and ideals,
But She's sugar nearby,
Believing in 'Happy Endings' and Cupid
and That Mr. Perfect Guy.
She’s, Oh I Love Rains
I'd live in them alright
am not that talkative, It’s just you
And am just happy enclosed in twilight.
She's, I'll find you a freaky nickname,
Or I'll now make my R's curved.
Besides all her cussing and adventures
It's always that plain old espresso that is loved.
She is Shakespeare and frost
with a lot of Harry Potter glued
She's, I love it when they criticize your pennings
but you are my favorite writer, Dude..
She is a noun
and infinite adjectives,
can talk, cry and smile at alternate moments
she is heroin the drug, she is addictive.
She writes only when she bleeds
her emotions are not penned
they are lived into
and then sown in words and letters
And afterall that she has lost
has held on to that one inner chord
that one path, which goes to her
somewhere deep within
and that is
what makes her intelligent
She is but a poem herself..