little paper cranes
hang in my mind
if you look close enough
you might even find

a new one appears
every single day
and for some reason
I don't know what to say

maybe just maybe
those little paper cranes
will fold into
little paper planes

to fly over the sea
and across country farms
to find their way
into your arms

because little paper cranes
hang in my mind
for you to one day search for
and for you to one day find

I wrote a note today, how I felt. I was finally honest, even if only with a piece of paper. I loved that note, the comfort it gave me. It didn't cry or shame when it heard my pain. But like scars, it was visible. It could be seen. So I had to shred my honesty, piece by piece to make sure no eyes would see my insides. My words were not for anyone but myself. The graphite on my fingers is easier hidden than the blood on my skin. So tonight I wash my hands, so I can write again tomorrow.