Origami

As the lad sit with a clean white slate,
And scratched the surface with a glorified blade,
And gave the slate scars of noticeable grade;
Came forth a man.
And accused him of treachery,
Lashed at him with animosity,
Papers, he said, are for origami.
He wiped his mouth and cleansed the blood,
Shook his hair and wore his hood,
Knelt again and wrote the book.
All over again.

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