like paper


like crumpled paper my existence folds into exhaustion
like the creases i shadow into an unbeingness
crushed in emptyness my texture changes
and wrinkled though i may be
there is plenty enough of white
for something to still be writen.

i’ll straighten out
and spread myself into apologies,
i’m trying to be better
to be mindful of purposeness.

don’t give up on me yet
please

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