Paper

I’m just an old scrap of paper
Worn edges frayed
Coffee-stained yellow
Sitting on the edge of my bed


Slumped and bent over, sagging
Not sharply folded like some important letter
Nor neatly creased like an origami swan
More like a crumpled wad of disregarded thought


Once written upon with brilliant prose
A promise of something new and grand
But those thoughts derailed and jumped the track
Then I was turned aside and left behind


Tiny tears appeared, something got spilled
Soon the constant erasing had worn me through
Now no measure of erasure can re-whiten my page
Permanently marred by the mistakes in the past


I’m just a crumpled-up ball
An old scrap headed for the trash can
Bounced off the rim and hit the floor
Just bad aim, nothing more