I used to be a clean sheet of paper,
never having anything to write.
Now I am like a paper cut,
never knowing when to stop.










I used to be a newborn baby,
ready to start my life.
Now I am like an old woman,
being close to death.
I used to be a wrapper,
blowing through green trees.
Now I am like a burnt city,
having nothing to throw away.










I used to be a blow horn,
my voice always heard.
Now I am like a whisper,
never reaching anybody’s ears.









I used to be a hunter,
catching animals left and right.
Now I am like a helpless deer,
about to be slaughtered.









I used to be an open book,
revealing my heart to everyone.
Now I am like an old dictionary,
nobody wants to read.
I used to be a shooting star,
being welcomed into Earth.
Now I am like a rocket ship,
always being sent away.