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Papel — Description

I am but paper. Brittle and thin.
I am held up to the sun, and it shines right through me.
I get written on, and I can never be used again.
These scratches are a history.
They’re a story.
They tell things for others to read, but they only see the words, and not what the words are written upon.
I am but paper,
and though there are many like me, none are exactly the same.
I am parched parchment. I have lines. I have holes.
Get me wet, and I melt.
Light me on fire, and I burn.
Take me in hardened hands, and I crumple.
I tear.
I am but paper. Brittle and thin.
T.J. Klune, The House in the Cerulean Sea