The pearls of my wisdom equates to this,
What dreams have made of me.
The burden of self awareness,
Limitations of a 2D existence,
I am a paper doll.
Jagged edged
Holding the hands of a dozen other versions
Of myself.
You can use me as a decoration,
Or separate me into the individual parts.
A paper army of myself.
Either way, all I know, is that all I have
Is the bare shape of myself,
An outline.
That’s all I show to the world.
A dozen blank, white paper dolls,
Fluttering away in the breeze.
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