• Sometimes,
    I spend hours just lying on the floor,
    Watching the sky change from baby blue
    To paper white.
    I feel like paper,
    paper getting torn apart by
    the wind and then beaten
    into a pulp by the rain.
    I wish God had made me a paper person,
    Paper can't feel and I feel too much.
    When I'm alone my head pounds
    With the emotions thumping against my skull.
    Wouldn't it be nice to be a paper doll
    Within a line of other paper dolls? Then
    I would never be alone and always
    Have a hand to hold.
    But they think I'm already like a paper doll;
    Uninteresting,
    Cold,
    Blank.
    No, definitely not a paper doll.
    Glass; I'm more like glass.
    A prism with too many sides to count,
    Some of them ugly
    But I reflect rainbows anyway.