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Scissors, Paper, and Elmer's Glue

I am a crafts kid through and through

It’s a little random for the start of a poem, but it’s something that will stay true to me till my last days

I have very fond memories of sitting on the floor of my living room with scissors, paper and an elmer's glue stick in my hand

I used to enjoy making little figures, paper clothes for my stuffed animals when I wanted them to play in the imaginary rain I created in my head

Scissors, paper, and elmer’s glue

A simple activity, where I had complete control of what happened in my little workshop

The only thing that would change was what would come out of those three things

Scissors, paper, and elmer’s glue

Eventually as I grew older and life started to change my table became my new floor and at first it felt strange

Of course it did, after all, something changed

Something I didn’t control, just something I was told to do, because at some point my crafts were something you glanced at and then just threw away in the trash

But I didn’t mind because now I have my space!

I have my own desk, my own chair, my own place to make whatever I want with my best friends

Scissors, paper, and elmer’s glue that never ends

More time goes on and more things have changed

My house is different, my family is different, the world is deranged

But I still have my desk, my chair, my little crafting world

Scissors, paper, and elmer’s glue; the best friend of a 12 year old girl

Time moves forward like a continuous stream

Next thing I know, my life is teeming with new events and new friends from this school

Groups form just like that, I thought it was cool

They fit together so well, like the crafts I used to do

Each little group had their scissors, paper, and elmer’s glue

Two years go by and I find some nice friends some people to spend time with even after the school days end

A chaotic group with all its functioning parts and it all started with a little group of five

But after five we turn six and after six now there’s seven

Oh look, we turned eight but now we’re eleven

The paper won’t hold the scissors are too dull

The old elmer’s glue stick is no longer full of a sticky adhesive we all used to use

Sitting at the dinner table, our parents amused with the little arts and crafts that we made with friends at school

Remember our little turkey hands? Weren’t those cool?

Now wouldn’t it be nice if things stayed the same?

If the crafts just stayed simple, consistent and plain?

But then paper evolves to cardboard, material hard and tough so the glue that worked before now may not be enough to keep the craft together as it evolves over time

The scissor turns to an exacto knife, cuts clean and precise

The crafts get more detailed, more complex, if you will

It’s manageable, you think, well, at least until the

Craft adds the glitter, the paint, the screws, the tech

Yet it works perfectly fine instead of being a complete wreck of a project and it holds perfectly fine

From its looks to its corners, not a single thing out of line not a single thing wrong with its structure its design

Constructed so perfectly a feeling so sublime now overwhelms me every corner of my mind

It’s so pretty, so strong, so unbelievably perfect

I look back at my burns wondering if it was all worth it?

Was it worth using all that glue for something that wouldn’t last?

Was it worth emptying the tube only to look back on the past and relish in the memories that remain in my head

Once a full stick with a clear purpose, a clear mission to do

The craft keeps on changing, enter hot glue

Hot glue is much stronger, it comes to replace

Comes to fill in the gaps that were left in the base of the craft

Exacto knife, cardboard, hot glue

Now what?

What’s there to do when you’re just an empty stick of glue?

No longer needed for that craft

But you still remember the fun, the adventures the laughs that you had with those crafts while you were the glue

But now you’re not the glue

Now, you’re just you

Let that craft be, let it evolve and grow as it will

They all evolved and left marching up that hill but it’s ok to not have a craft anymore

It won’t be the last, I’m sure you’ll make more

Maybe they won’t include any paper, won’t need any scissors

Maybe the craft in your future will be made of just mirrors

You’ll look at your reflection and realize it’s not you

You’re your own little craft

Made of scissors, paper, and elmer’s glue