Paper doll

I am a paper doll and it makes me frustrated. It makes me bitter, it makes me turn my head down like the flowers do when the sun has disappeared. I am the lonely blue girl in the background of an old photograph. I am the little bird that never learned to fly. It fell down from its nest and now it's down there in the grass, looking at the lilac sky and wondering how it would be like to be carried by the wind.

I would rather disappear completely than be a doll made of paper. I feel so ashamed of my paper limbs that i try to hide in the shadows and cover myself with lots of clothes. I try to be invisible because i don't want them to notice i am nothing but only a nostalgic decoration, only one breakable moment in someone else's childhood. I feel like i should give them explanations. They might start asking. They might think i'm weird. And i wonder why they didn't miss the train but i did. Why is it me standing in the empty station, waiting for the train that never comes? Did i break my wings before or after falling from the nest?

I sigh and i stare at the emptiness. I only want to be real. I want another train to come and pick me up so that i could sit down and travel to the merciful unknown. I don't want that children's paper scissors can cut me in thousands of miserable pieces.