I am your paper plane,
Soaring gently through,
The thermal winds.
Gradually losing momentum,
Being crushed by the force,
Of your atmosphere.
Our love is crumpled,
Even before I hit the pavement.
I am your paper boat,
Sailing soothly across,
The hidden tides.
Slowly beginning to sink,
Down deeper into the murky water,
Your raindrops creating a swell,
A tidal wave of depression.
Our love is unrequited,
You'd never cry for me.
I am your paper kite,
Your paper bird,
Your paper rose.
Each object useless and fragile,
Easily broken and destroyed.
Yes - they may be beautiful, some more than others.
But ultimately they can be discarded.
Ultimately I am not beautiful.
Each object can be remade again,
All you need is another piece of paper.
And I guess that's all I am to you,
A worthless piece of paper.