I am a sheet of paper,
Dropping out of a book,
Leaving words behind,
Never to return to them.
My song is that of the wind,
Disturbing letters in a text.
I'll be waiting,
Down here,
Never to raise
And never to fall again.
The water I drink,
The rain I bless
Is the tear that falls slowly,
Being hurt by a word-
In a book, on a shelf.
I feed on dust,
That covers the wood,
I never starve, and always wish more.
I'm selfish- I know- but I am also alone...
So empty, so shallow, naked and cold.