I thought I was a special matchstick, with a stick long enough to last.
I thought I was a super absorbing sponge, with a capacity to last.
I realized.. I am a crumbled paperball.
Trashed by the grim reality, not to be recycled.
No matter how much is put into smoothing the paper,
There will always be imperfection.
In a world where many are still a fresh sheet of paper..
Are there really a place for any crumbled paperballs?