Heavy winds, we’re blown across the globe.
A touch of water, we disintegrate to paper mush.
Can’t stand hurt ourselves, but when others are hurt,
do we care?
As long as it isn’t me, we think.
It’s our curse, to be fragile paper doll people,
fickle and paper-thin.
We are scared for our bodies, our minds,
but we hide in hermit shells like snails.
Slowly plodding on.
Continuing on the cycle of the paper doll people.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11……step by step, over and over.