How unique!

Paper to pen,

Pushing thoughts through

Onto old, refined papyrus

That doesn’t know it’s self-worth

As I write

I etch my mind in history

Otherwise, what evidence will there be

Of my once forgotten thoughts?

But paper and pen,

Like the wood it comes from,

Is everlasting

Until it is burned

By fires of hate

And touched

By venom of ignorance

So I write this down,

Because it just may be

The last thing I ever think.