Have you ever noticed that when you look closely at a piece of paper, it's faded, blotchy?
When you really focus on not what the paper says, but what the paper is when you truly focus?
You can see right through it, right?
In places, it's more transparent than in others.
From a distance, it's one solid color.
But you look at it from up close, and it's almost broken in spots.
But then--no!
The wind blows by, robbing your pale hands of the paper.
It drifts away, but no big deal, right?
It's only paper. There are millions of other pieces where that came from.
Seemingly perfect, but actually broken.
Easily taken, easily replaced.
Funny, isn't it? People are the same way.
YOU ARE READING
Book of Poems
Poetryi love writing poetry but i hate figuring out titles so disregard them because they're poorly planned out but the poems are good i hope
