Thursday, February 14, 2013


I thought I'd be a wild flower to you
And like paper I am,
yes a paper flower
And so you tried to suffocate me
to drown me in your water
Your sweat were pearls to my dreams
and now what?

What can water mean to me- paper
Among the living
on the ground untouched
untouched by the language
the words of love
Oh if only you knew
How much I've dreamt of life
how much I too feel
it's so unreal.

I thought I'd be a rose even
with long thick petals
and colorful too
like deep red or lilac
And although I was born with thorns
I am paper you know, I couldn't survive a storm
That storm that swept all the good with the bad
And thunder ripped right through me
right before I became nothing
Now what?

What can love mean to me?
What can learning that language you speak so well
clear for me?

I thought I'd even be some kind of weed
yes, like the kind that infests backyards
and front yards swarmed by these
At least I'd learn to breathe
learn to enjoy the few moments of life
But paper I am... I used to dream even
of being written on, of being needed
of being wanted and of being
I'd let the ink on me
sink into me...
but now what?

Nobody knows how to write anymore
no one cares for words on paper...
a letter even - yes
it was only, wait, I can't remember.

So I was invented by some grace
I was folded and made to look real
but I feel, I assure I feel!
And now what?

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