Inappreciable

I flip through the pages

Staring at the prodigious book

Fixating on twisting sentences

My weary arms swaying under the pressure

I lift my sharply burning finger

Spot an inconspicuous line of vermillion

Divert my gaze toward the paper cut

A new member of the creases on my palm

Screaming for recognition, burning desire to be heard

Turning bright crimson, a desperate attempt

To be taken seriously, to be healed

I press the flesh against it

Forcing a tiny drop of blood out

It shrieks louder, more dolorous than before

Vying for attention

I slap a Band-Aid onto it

Shutting it up

Disregarding it’s hideous cries

Disrespecting it’s indignation

After all, it’s merely a paper cut

Who in the world ever listens

To trivial matters, no matter

How hard it tries to be heard?