MADE OF PAPER
estefaaano_writes
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we crimp our limbs,
into origami,
making creases out of our skins.
attempting to prove these self-imposed bounds
from all the sides of our form.
we bevel corners to dull razor edges,
only to realize,
that paper cuts happen by the way we hold.
in our skins,
we write our poems.
hoping that the ink will stain letters,
and spell the words of the reasons.
we layer our dreams,
hoping what overlaps will transform us.
and give us the truth about
how heavy it is to be lightweight.
we deflate, collapsing bodily husks
into mere effigies of future becomings.
burnt by desire, to finally assume that elusive,
taking the honest shape
of our meaning.






finally!!!!!
ReplyDeletethe poet that you are 🫡
ReplyDeleteđź’Ž
ReplyDeleteI KNEW IT WILL BE A BOMB!
ReplyDeleteGOOD JOB BRO.
the poets department is calling.
ReplyDeleteadding this to my favorites ⭐
ReplyDeletelove the thought that we're as fragile as paper, but when our words are written on paper it becomes strong
ReplyDeleteaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh
ReplyDeletebringing this masterpiece back this year is ✨
ReplyDeletemasterpiece
ReplyDelete👏🏻
ReplyDeleteestefaaano_writes, I am obsessed with the origami metaphor! It perfectly captures that constant, awkward struggle we have to 'fit' ourselves into self-imposed shapes.
ReplyDelete'paper cuts happen by the way we hold' is just a devastatingly brilliant line. It's so true that the damage often comes from our own grip.
ReplyDeletePhenomenal work.
this is exactly how I feel on a bad day. Like I'm wearing a shape that doesn't quite fit, always trying to 'bevel corners' so I don't hurt anyone, but I end up hurting myself.
ReplyDeleteThe whole poem is a beautiful expression of that deep, exhausting effort to be lightweight.
ReplyDelete