Paper doll, meet reality.
Scissors, icy cold from both sides, slice through effortlessly.
Tumble down, caught up in the gusts, confetti of your former self.
Flutter down, down in spirals like a snow.
Just go on and blizzard yourself straight to the floor.
Split, divide and conqeuor yourself, and lay down your arms, severed.
The end comes swift, as you lie adrift on the ocean of dust and grime.
As you’re swept up and tossed aside, you finally find out the answer to the question:
Does a paper person have a paper soul?
Yes, and it lives on in waste baskets, crumpled scraps still carry the words. On to an eternity lives the scripted drama, stenciled smiles, and blood-red penned hearts.
The body may crumble, but the words live on.
sentences and phrases the only way to live forever.
The only afterlife is an archive of ink.