I am like a sheet of paper,

Revealing nothing yet,

But with the right words you will find,

That I'm capable of anything.

I'm not a perfect sheet of paper,

I've been torn, crumpled, and thrown away.

But there has always been someone there for me,

To pick me back out of the trash,

And smooth my creased edges out.

I may have some doodles in my margin.

Some that are good and some that are not.

But even though I'm not perfect,

This lets me stick out from the other pages.

I will not be a part of a book,

Far too many have already done that.

I will stand alone, sitting patiently,

Waiting,

For just the right person to write on me.