The world is divided

into columns of words on a page.

So empty and colourless

they sit and they bleed.

The words unwritten

are the ones who fly free.

Like the pitter-patter of a child's feet

who never, ever wants to grow up.

The words leap of the page

and into your mind,

give you ideas,

things to stand up for.

But the world is divided

into long, thin, narrow strips of plastic

like the blinds on my window.

But the world just won't listen.