I am your paper plane,
Soaring gently through,
The thermal winds.

Gradually losing momentum,
Being crushed by the force,
Of your atmosphere.

Our love is crumpled,
Even before I hit the pavement.

I am your paper boat,
Sailing soothly across,
The hidden tides.

Slowly beginning to sink,
Down deeper into the murky water,
Your raindrops creating a swell,
A tidal wave of depression.

Our love is unrequited,
You'd never cry for me.

I am your paper kite,

Your paper bird,

Your paper rose.

Each object useless and fragile,
Easily broken and destroyed.

Yes - they may be beautiful, some more than others.

But ultimately they can be discarded.

Ultimately I am not beautiful.

Each object can be remade again,
All you need is another piece of paper.

And I guess that's all I am to you,

A worthless piece of paper.