Paper. Markers. Words. All different but all the same. Let's look at the world. I am a single sheet of paper. You are the marker, you have control. My flaws are the words. You shape me the way you want. Scribbling words all over me. Making sure they are heard. Cut me, rip me, and crumple me. When I am too full you throw me away. Stuck and unwanted. I am no longer blank. The words all over me black ink runs down the lines. Slowly fading watching as you ruin the others. One single rip or one single drop of ink changes me. Changes the way I look. The way I was. Before you wrote all over me. Before you used me.