I'm the Girl Who Still Believes in Writing

Mon, 02/12/2018 - 00:50 -- ali mei

To all the people willing to listen, willing to read:

I share with you my work, my creed

I have but a simple message that’s easy to hear

It’s easy to listen, to just lend an ear


I am a writer at heart, a writer in whole

And the blossoming words I share are rooted deep in my soul

I might have little experience, for I’m still in my youth

But little is enough to know this resounding, ancient truth


A vine-covered princess castle is but a step away

A barnacle-encrusted, gold-dusted pirate ship is right there, in the bay

The world’s been overtaken by monstrous aliens in U.F.O.’s

In my experience, anything can happen with a book on your nose


But if I look up from a book and to reality, I see

That more is in those books than mere entertainment made for me

There is depth and meaning and lessons to learn

In those pages that only a brutal barbarian would burn


The grand princess castle I once on hours dreamed about

Turned out to be but a shabby, falling-to-pieces little house

Inhabited by someone who cared for others far more than a cold tiara’s shine

Making that house a glowing castle in the kingdom of being kind


And pirate? More like snail and dirt and hide-and-seek loving little boy

Who, until his 7 o’clock bedtime, played tirelessly with his wooden sword, his favorite toy,

And used his Peter Pan comforter, his mom’s black shirt tied to a stick, and imagination

To build a sea-dominating, fear-invoking ship of his own masterful creation


Yet even with these lessons to convey, books are thrown and writing’s wasted

Their words, their themes, their ideas are never read and never tasted

But if the world were to choose to care, if we chose to mind

Why, there are just so many things in those crafted words for us to find


Maybe life isn’t always like a perfect storybook fairytale

And one day I’ll realize I’m not a mermaid with a shiny, gem-like tail

But maybe the reason we don’t always see ourselves as what we want to be

Is because we use only our unseeing eyes to see


Set a moment in your hectic life to take a nice, long look

At a meaningful, well-written, inspiring kind of book

And as you read it--on your bed, in the library, at your office desk--in the perfect lighting

Believe me when I say, you’ll understand the art of writing


I might just be a child, just a girl with simple thoughts

Yet I say with conviction that writing is everything and anything but a thing of naught

And if you choose to read, you’ll choose to join the cause for which I’m fighting

Yours truly, the girl who still believes in writing

This poem is about: 
Our world


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