Who am I? Perhaps, nothing. Sometimes I lie on the floor, other times you gently pick me up with your ink-stained fingers. My pupils often dilate with the darkness inside your caves while you destroy my skin hard. Other times, my eyes cannot stop blinking when somewhere in the corner I open up a casket of your most prized possessions. I see your wounded ego when I move on. It often needs my medicine and that’s my ecstatic pain. Sometimes you crush me hard and other times you burn me when you think you don’t need me.

Yes, I’m just a paper, made of wood, sometimes carelessly lying on the floor, other times kept loose on the table. You scribble hard with your pen and destroy my skin often. Yet, you need me and I stand tall and high in the files and inside the drawers. I treasure your mind, heart, and soul. I’m a precious paper, made of wood. Handle me with care!

Via Daily Prompt: Paper

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 350 other followers

(All content on this blog is property of the author. Please do not copy or redistribute without permission. You are free to share on social media as long as you credit the author).


26 thoughts on “Paper

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s