The Most Dreadful and Terrifying Menace

Oh, innocent-looking thing,

So pure, so blank.

Such inviting blue lines,

To be written on.

But I am not fooled,

I know the truth.

You sit there, 

concealing the horror within.

Twisting my lovely words,

Changing them, making them

Into something else, 

What I never thought could be.

It sounds so strange,

Did I really write that?

I don't remember it.

How very odd.

And often, it stares at you,

Taunting you with perfect blankness.

Laughing when you can't think 

Of what to say.

Oh, paper, you menace!

Of all the things you do - 

Let's not forget 

About the worst of them all ...

PAPER CUTS! - my poor bleeding finger, what did it ever do to you?