I carry a Paper within.
Written over and over; it speaks,
It echoes words; I dread.
Erased over and over; it withers.
The mutilated Paper carries wounds,
And every Light pierces through the wounds.

How much this Paper shall carry?
My Shame, the failings, the valour and my turbulences.
I once rooted it out.
And buried in the Cold Snow; it simmered.
To find myself; I dug it out;
The withered words remained, yet.