There's a woman
Falling from the sky
Made up of graphite,
Begging me to catch her.

There's young girls
With red ink
Streaked accross their backs
And arms,
Pleading for my help.

This is my world
Of condemned people.

There's lines about
Characters without
Redemption
Asking me what happens next,
Hoping I'll pull them out.

There's a soft world of white
Before me,
I tear at it with my pen,
I scratch trauma
And loathing into its core.

Paper is my world,
I am the god of this
Crumpled up planet.
And a broken god
Makes a broken world.

This world I've made,
You may not understand it,
Be fearful, for I command it.
No one can tell me
What to do here.

You should be more careful
Who you lend
Your ears.
I'll draw lines through you,
And rewrite your future.
Welcome to my paper world.