You can crumple us up,
and throw us away
like business reply mail
in a magazine.
I can say I don't need you
and run away; A crying,
puny, seven year old.
They can judge us
with their curious minds
like we are animals in the zoo.
But like paper we will smoothen
and return to our binder.
I will return to you
once my pot has simmered.
And we will be happy fools forever,
giving them the show they
never desired.
