Written by: Frederick Lokko

Like a paper with two 
So is our lives in the 
hands of destiny
Plain and bare with no 
Nice and clear with no 
Our colours stand out,
waiting to be folded into 
the right shape.
With every day,every 
turn,every breath
every dicision our lives 
are folded
into one direction or the 
every way we go, every 
path we choose.
The paper is folded in a 
certain way.
Revealing a certain 
dimension of us.
Folding into the the next 
figure after the
Every mistake leaves a 
crease, an unerasable
or unremoveable line
stuck on our paper which 
was so fine.
This crease may lead to 
an error
in the end not bringing 
out the perfect shape,
that figure no one knows 
you are creating.
That masterpiece of art. 
That its beauty or its
uglyness can only be 
observed when its all
that figure of hope
of motivation,
that the next generation 
of lives
will try to copy,
that origamy figure,
with its lines,some 
perfect some wrongly
but all with a story to tell.
That figure you created 
with your whole life
to show.
All we are, are nothing 
but a designer with a
piece of paper in hand
trying to create 
something out of it.
The question now is 
what are u creating??