Creased
...
My life is like a paper crane
I used to know exactly what folds to make
How to perfectly crease the paper
l used to know how beautiful it would look in the end
...
My hands knew precisely what to do
I used to be able to do it without mistake
I made use of what I had, whatever paper was available
I used to be able to make it work no matter what I started with
...
Sometime between the folds
My hands forgot which way to move
Forgot the crisp feeling of the creases
Forgot the whistle of paper as it rubbed
Forgot the way the pale parchment folded so effortlessly
Forgot how beautiful it could be in the end
...
My life is like a paper crane
I can't remember which folds to make
How to bend it without breaking
I can't remember what it was like to live life so perfectly
...
My life is like a paper crane
lt's been creased in the wrong places
Ripped on the edges
It's been made sloppily with thin paper
...
Too easy to break
Too easy to mess up
...
My life is like a paper crane
I used to know what choices to make
How to prepare for my future
I used to know how beautiful it would look in the end
Summer Month: 1 
Night 
Fog Moon: 
