My world is made of paper; in folds and folds I’m wrapped

and sometimes deep within its folds my mind feels firmly trapped.

Words and words and even more words are writ upon each page,

until they do surround me; a pen and paper cage.

There’s times I need to break free of celluloses locks

and find my way to freedom from in this paper box,

to let my mind sit quiet; forget about it all,

and let it all sit quiet and hear my own heart’s call.

The worst fear is a paper cut as I struggle to be me

and burst out of this prison where I can just be me.