Paper Plane Girl, what holds you up?

Perhaps it is the air that fills your lungs
And hollows out your bones and veins
So that they become nothing but catacombs.

Or maybe it all goes up to your pretty head,
Inflating your cells and the idea of yourself,
And you float like a balloon with limitless air.

But you are a paper airplane without fuel
And when you finally carry yourself into space
There will be no wind to fly you anywhere
Or gravity to pull you back from loneliness.