When you are old
Your skin will become like paper,
And your bones will be like the wooden ribs
Of a lantern
So that the world will see the light in your chest.
But I don't need to wait
Because I already know that the light is there.
When you are old
Your skin will become like paper,
And your bones will be like the wooden ribs
Of a lantern
So that the world will see the light in your chest.
But I don't need to wait
Because I already know that the light is there.
I walled myself in with paper three days ago. I used my old fashioned-blow torch to melt the door of my office shut, and pressed my desk and my chair up against it.
I started getting folded-up sheets of blank loose-leaf paper from a girl in my algebra class six years ago. I still remember the first one I got in Junior year.
, and then the astronomer looked up at the stars and forgot everything.
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