- I pour down my feelings,
- Onto a piece of paper,
- Which silently absorbs,
- Whatever I spill upon it.
- It asks me no questions,
- As to why I'm upset or glad,
- Nothing seems to bother it,
- Whether I'm happy or sad.
- I mind not its indifference,
- As it's just a piece of paper,
- And not a bosom friend,
- Supposed to feel concerned.
- Yet I take this inanimate thing,
- As my most trusted partner,
- Who listens to me with patience,
- Without ever being judgemental!
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