I like to think of myself as a piece of paper,
Delicate,
Easily scrunched into a ball
And disposed of,
With ease you can punch
A hole through me,
I can be torn apart
At the hands of another
And be discarded.

But as fragile as I may appear,
I also possess strength that no one
Could ever conjure in their head.
I absorb ink,
Preserving the overwhelming
Creativity that flows,
I can be folded
Over and over again
Until I am an origami masterpiece,
I can be the vessel
Of vast knowledge,
Used as a means of holding
Secrets that everybody
Wants hidden.

The best part is,
Is that I can be recycled,
No matter how many times
I am broken down
I am transformed,
And every essence,
Every fibre of my being
Exists in every corner
Of the world.