you’re a piece of white paper
born naive and transparent
you could create your own character
one day you’re the cinnamon bun
and the next a psychopathic nun
you’re a piece of white paper
people thought you came from
those bamboos near the river
they tried to soak you in ink
drain you out, make you wither
paper-thin but sharp like a knife
your skin is made from a hemlock twig
they burned you down in the forest fire
but you will rise once again
in the afterlife.
t.l.
Tsunami of Words 