Featured in the 2016 Spring Issue of Rambunctious
Damaged Celia Reistrom, '18 Paper skin falls apart in layers, like brittle leaves being pushed off a tree until the tree is bare And that's why when the knife digs in Scarlet droplets condense into red ribbons and they spill like milk off the edge of a counter, piling on the floor, staining the tile red Paper skin, like a paper girl Ignites with a single flame, and trying to make two burning candles blaze in sync is the same as water trying to dance with fire She is paper, she is carried along in the wind Lifted gently off the top of her feet, but Hits the ground so easily But paper skin, like a paper girl Becomes scattered ghosts when they're paper thin And paper skin, like a paper girl Rips to shreds so easily