People never seem to notice the real me
Well, they do but only when they are in need
Then they use and change me, I used to be a tree
I cry while they cut away at my branches I begin to bleed

I’ve now taken a new form, I am now paper
Even in my new form I go unnoticed until I’m useful
I’m boring until they print on me calling me a ‘newspaper’
I was just a tree forced to be paper, does that not seem at all abuseful?

People hand kids these crayons to give me some color
At least it’s better than when they scrape me with ink all over
I also get the ‘pleasure’ of being the paper given to a graduating scholar
Why me? Why a tree? Did I do something wrong? Why not the four leaf clover?

People have never seemed to really noticed me much
For I was a tree now a paper that people hold in their clutch