Crumpled Paper

My table is filled with crumpled paper
Each and every one a day gone by,
Meaningless, thoughtless refuse
The words I yearn to say are
Trapped in every ball of scrap paper,
Torn and ripped from the eulogy of each discarded paper
Of all the days,
Of all the years,
That has passed.
Scrawled words infest my fresh sheet
Every day.
Waste of space,
Like the words on this page.
My mind scrambles to find words
Worthwhile,
So this page will not be crumpled like the rest.