Wet Paper – Delhi Poetry Slam

Wet Paper

By Riddhi Sharma

My soul is paper-
People scribble on it;
They taint it with their muddy fingers.
They scrawl to their heart’s content,
And when they’re satisfied,
They toss me away like I’m nothing.
The soiled soles of their shoes
Walk all over me.
And I’m left tarnished and polluted.
With time, my edges hardened;
They sharpened like knives.
Now, I’m a rough piece of paper,
Unbending and serrated.
But you’re soft rain,
Unexpected and unabated.
You wash over me
Like waves on the shore,
And all the dirt washes away;
The ink sinks into the floor.
You make me forget.
You make me soft.
There are no needs,
No desires, and no wants.
Like wet paper,
I melt at your touch;
The lines between my beginnings
And endings blurred; smudged.
I dissolve into you
Until I’m nothing.
I was once hardened paper,
But now, I’m your stream-
Lucid and rushing.


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