The fiction we live in.

Monday, February 04, 2008

Used

I feel used.
Like insignificant thrash.
Just like paper.
When you need it, write on it.
But when you had enough,
Burn it. Tear it. Crush it.
Do whatever to it.
~
So just use me.
And tell me when you're done.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Great work.