My body pressed down by stacks of dictionaries and thesauruses
And people desperate to iron out my creases before they need to use me,
I lay flat against the map of the town, my cheek brushing a tree’s branches.
The paper town is pretty to perfection, all done down in diffused pastels
It’s long and tall, but it has zero broadness to its name-
A perfect match for me in those days leading up to a stint in rehab
But SHHHHH!! We’re aren’t allowed to talk about rehab.
The river that flows unassumingly through town traces a line across my thighs,
Covering up with its blue murk the lil red scratches that paint my skin
But SHHHHH!! We’re aren’t allowed to talk about those problems either.
The paper town is quiet and quaint on the face,
Which is good given there’s not much else to see here.
The infinities wasted here linger below like the taste of peanut butter
But anyone could see from a glance the lives frozen in one serene moment
What they can’t see, the part that’s hidden under the soil, the second layer of paper
Is that the moment is surely fading into a photograph
And slowly, slowly, slowly… the paper town is home only to pathetic paper people.
Picture perfect. Perfect picture.
I can feel my heart disintegrating with each passing day I can’t give it any meaning
And I can feel my blood boiling with each day the powers that be control me and I don’t know why
I can’t find any rhyme or reason that works for me, I can’t find a meaning to be me, or being this
I’m made of paper, blowing in the wind wherever it wants to take me
I’m a powerless slip of paper with a painted on smile fading in the brilliant sunlight I’m driving into.
I fade. I’m not even a fresh paper anymore.
But I feel doomed to be a paper forever. So I fade.