Rising From the Sheet

It rose from the white rectangle
Not even half a man
Maybe three quarters if it was lucky

Finally free, it assaulted the oak plains
Running wild and swiping at children’s fortresses
Trying to gain a sense of self
Or at least food for the cold night ahead

But it forgot to chase the light
Which went away at the speed of itself
So the paper being fumbled around in the dark
Trying to find a structure it hadn’t destroyed

It got lucky again
Huddling alone in a garish bunker
Wondering when the light would return

Paper

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