A Torn Page


It’s the rebel in me. And the coward. Both don’t go together, I know. That’s why I look like a ripped page torn from a book. I don’t belong here or there. Not in the book nor alone.

I’m an awkward page in the book, but on my own I’m not a complete page. The writing on it is unclear, disconnected, and without contexts.

Let me know a good writer who can turn this page into a readable piece, a moving prose, a soaring poem, or even just a banal essay.

I need to live. Really live.

Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you.

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