Paper

Because I want to keep putting myself out there, because I want to make some sort of life out of my writing, and because I need to stop being afraid to express myself, here’s another poem, this one I wrote as part of a personal experience paper for my Existentialism class, (which I highly recommend, by the way)

Paper

Living in paper houses,
in a paper world,
I have paper clips for hands.
Before you I was made of stone.
My feet dragged on the grass,
and my eyes were stuck to the sky.
Now we dwell in paper factories.
They make us clean
and sharp.
They make us feel like we can be anything,
but forget to mention
how easy we are to crumble and tear.