Dear Cassandra,
The idea of writing to you is very scary. You and I are essentially the same person but your entire existence is a piece of paper.
Oh paper self, oh paper self,
How flappy are your arms?
Do they wave in the wind
or jiggle at a touch?
Are they life like,
or flesh like
or are they just paper arms?
Oh paper self, oh paper self,
how thin and lifeless are you?
Do you wither in the rain
or crumble between hands?
Are you life-like
or flesh-like
or are you just a paper heart?
Oh paper self, oh paper self,
how graceful and perfect are you?
Do you parade around in fancy clothes
or wear those Jimmy Choo’s?
Are you life-like
or flesh-like
or are you who I wish to be?
Oh paper self, oh paper self,
How different are you and I?
Do you have weight
or is there only air around you?
You are life-like
but not flesh
who I wish to never be,
for the simple fact that paper self,
I love me for me.