Every day is the same,
Ordinary,
With me wishing that something would happen,
Making it extraordinary,
The only time that I know I'm extraordinary,
Is when I write,
The words flowing from my fingertips,
At peace,
Not worried what others think of me,
For once,
Peace,
Solace,
In my crazy middle school days,
No worries,
All else fades,
And I am alone with my words,
No cares,
But to create beauty,
Something that will move someone,
That will touch someone in ways they can't explain.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem