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An Ode to the Notebook
  I am running out of pages in this notebook of mine
  Just like my brain, there is no more room to write another line
  I realize this notebook is my only friend
  Thank you, O notebook. You are my Godsend
  You have been by me through thick and thin
  You gave me space to ponder where my emotions have been
  You have inspired me to write what I write
  “Anything,” you say. “Anything you like.”
  We had good times, you and I
  Unfortunately, these times did die
  I will miss the memories that we shared
  About my life, and the mother who never cared
  I will miss writing to you about screaming and bleeding
  About my hope, the emotion that was fleeting
  I will miss your comfort and willingness to help me
  You are a gift from God, and the powers that be
  I have used this gift to the max of my ability
  In hopes of reaching higher tranquility
  You have fulfilled your purpose, O notebook of mine
  I salute you, O notebook, for you heard me whine
  You have tried to help me find inner peace
  And go to a bunny from a beast
  I love you, O notebook, for you deciphered lies
  I will miss you, O notebook, for you listened to the screaming cries
  You are the only one who listens to what I say
  But now it’s time, old friend, to travel our own way
  I poured my heart out to you just because
  O notebook, I bled out my pain about what once was
  I told you, O notebook, about what I was thinkin’
  You helped me, O notebook, fight my demon
  That demon was undoubtedly me
  O notebook, you’ve finally helped to set me free
  You helped me, O notebook, to vent my feelings
  Maybe now those feelings will be laid to rest; the tomb is sealing
  Thank you, O notebook, for the love you have provided
  You have chained the demon that inside me resided
  That demon  is me, you’ve got me chained and released
  This causes more pain; it hasn’t ceased
  You free me, O notebook, and I’m not fazed
  You cage me, O notebook, and I go crazed
  Thank you for this pain, O notebook, for I lost this freedom and gained what you did steal
  It doesn’t make sense, I know, but at least I am positive I am human
  Thank you, O notebook, for you retaught me how to feel.

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I know it may seem like I am going to stop writing, but I won't. I ran out of pages in my notebook I write my poems in, and it served me well. I wanted to show my respect and thanks.