Paper
People say that
"The pen is mightier than the sword!"
I've never thought much of it
Until
Realization truly hit me
Just go with me here
Every
Single
Day
Millions upon millions of people
Communicate through this thin piece of material we call
Paper
It comes in all different types of colors and sizes
Just like people
Not to mention
Billions upon billions of these individual thin pieces of material
Are used and or wasted
Always
And
Eventually
Ending up in the garbage
People feel like they are wasted and cast aside all the time
Just like the multiple sheets of paper we waste everyday
And think about this
We even have stencils for papers
So that we can shape "perfectly" into what we want to use it for
Sound familiar to anybody
But
What really stumps me
Is the fact
That
It can retain so many complex emotions
Pieces of music
Love letters
Get well soon cards
Birthday cards
Acceptance letters
Business letters
Suicide notes
Epic war stories
Romance novels
Young adult novels
Classics
Tragedies
Comedies
And the list goes on and on
Isn't it strange
That
Us humans
The ones that are said to be the most complex creatures ever to exist
Can't even contain what a thin piece of material that is crafted from an ant-infested tree can
But maybe
That's why people say that
"The pen is mightier than the sword!"
Because it's not the paper that's retaining all of these emotions
But
The writing utensil which we use so wisely
(Or maybe sometimes not so wisely)
Use to craft little charcoal-scratches into letters that create a diverse language that
We can all communicate with
Or maybe
The key to all of this is
Communication
And
The paper and the writing utensil which we decide to use
Are the subsets of it all
And
That the paper and the writing utensil are extensions of our soul
The paper represents our lives
A blank sheet of
Wonder
Mystery
Excitement
Opportunities
The writing utensil represents all of the overwhelming emotions that are overflowing from within us
An extensive tool that describes
Well...
Everything
I guess
The key to it all
Is
Us
When we are given life
Our weapons are
The paper
And
The writing utensil
Whatever you choose to write about
Is all in the palm of your hands
You can create so many beautiful masterpieces
You may make a few not so beautiful pieces of work
But
It's just part of the contract
The contract
Which is given on a piece of paper
And
Written with a writing utensil
YOU ARE READING
Parts of Me
PoetryHello, and welcome to my mind. I must you warn you that what you are about to experience may traumatize you or at least give you nightmares. I cannot promise that when you read this that it will fill you with thoughts of rainbows and unicorns, but I...
