Maybe I'm part of a trick,
maybe I'm part of a game,
but what I do know is
that I am a mere piece of paper.

When the children see my face
and then it disappears,
they are in awe, amazed, and absolutely cheer
on the performer who holds me in their hands.
But it is never me they appreciate on the stands.

My life has been cut out for me.
I've been crafted and manufactured
like the rest of them.
Whatever suit I'll wear,
I'll either have a heart or not.

It's an endless cycle that I'm in.
The magician will fold me and tear me apart,
only to come back again as one whole.
But the watchers don't care what I've been through.

It's a hard job, being me.
Only a puppet in mastery.
My controller takes advantage of my beautiful face,
but a piece of paper, that is my only fate.