I am your paper;
Crimson tissue ribbons the presence within.
Open me up... this deeper essence is all yours.
Treat my like your little nothing, you stupid bitch.
Tear at my everything for the sake of your happiness.
You have broken tread of the shallow waiting pool...
As the helpless leap frog rips at the surface.
And You, fucking whore, swim to the bottom of that barrel.
I am your paper;
Bend me, break my spirit... Please do it.
Tell yourself im happy in your chosen form.
Twist my fragile self until I begin to tear at the seam,
don't stop the abuse until I'm to flimsy to work.
Until your play thing is mangled and useless.
Im your jagged sheet of nothingness, of imperfection,
so much so that now the fold is my all...
Thought of giving you paper would be to dance with insanity.
I am your ____ ;
Lonley, ink stained and tattered is your masterpiece.
Searching for the helping hand of another,
another to make me their dream and build my nightmare.
I'm no longer your paper... MANIPULATIVE BITCH!
Very thought of your fingertip along my side makes me kringe,
and your firey memory sets fire to my paper heart.
Cold and lonely... I am but the amputee's origami.
Forged no more by the brittle fingertips of judgment,
as a new element reaches to tend the wounds.
The gentle whisper of a warmth kisses the cold...
My, this sweatshirt wears so beautifully.
Need not birth alter ego, the perfection is now my choosing.
Now I watch one bend to me... and the transition is seamless.