Paper Thin


Allow me to steal a moment of your time,
And also a small scrap of paper.

Before you throw it away,
You’ll want to crumple it up,
Tight into a ball.

But hold on,
Why this piece of paper?
What message did it hold, deemed unworthy of being saved?
Open it again, it’s not too hard,
Folds sharp,
Like creases on an old man’s face.

What does it say?
Read it. Done? Crumple again,
But wait, something stops you
From throwing it away.

A perfectly good piece of paper,
Why bin it so hastily?
Why listen to someone you do not know?
Smooth it out, and thus begins the beauty,
Fresh lines etched deep into its face,
But the older ones a little faded,
Trying to go away.

Crumple and open,

Now the folds will never go away.
Instead, they become softer,
Taking the paper with it,
Until slowly it becomes,
A soft and delicate artwork.

For what once was to be destroyed,
First appeared indestructible,
And what once seemed worthless,
Now becomes beautiful.

But any more folds and it will tear,
Holes finding their way into the framework,
A small scrap of paper,
A soft and delicate artwork.


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