blank pages

they mock her
sitting there all clean and pure
no matter how hard she tries
they remain empty
she folds them
creating lines
that lead to nowhere
she crumples and twists them into knots
only to try to smooth
them
but it doesn't matter
they remain white
and pure
not even her hands
mar them

she spills her ink
like tears
wet dark stains
like the mascara
that runs down
cheeks