Poem #1688

Pristine Pages

I hate messing up a new notebook,
Filling it with scratch-outs and gobbledygook,
Their new covers dazzle the eyes,
Like with all new office supplies,
They hold the unsaid promise of new work,
Be it poems, stories or artwork,
Yet there’s a desire to keep them pristine white,
To ruin the pages just doesn’t seem right,
The mere thought fills me with dread,
This silly hang-up I know is just in my head,
Even so, I can’t help but feel as I do,
Is it wrong to ink something so brand new?

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