Chasm of Papers

We are dropped in a pit made of clean, white sheets of paper.

They crunch as we sink a bit below the surface.

We flounder about until they are all below us.

I had three paper cuts. You had four.

We walk towards the bottom line of the cliff surrounding us.

A cliff made of clean, white sheets of paper.

We look up and dread more paper cuts, but there’s no other way out.

You took the first step, and I followed suit.

The edges were sharp, and the ledges aren’t sturdy.

We fell a few times.

I had seven paper cuts. You had nine.

We climb the cliff now tainted with a bit of red.

We now knew where we should or should not step.

Ten paper cuts for the both of us.

After a while, we reach the top—

We’ve reached the other side!

The paper cuts don’t matter anymore.

The chasm of papers will be forgotten

That is, until we have to climb out of one again.

 

Chasm of Papers—the chasm between now and semester break. Bloody papers.