The thought of Paper?

I remember how proud I was to be picked out of all the others, the honor to hold their thoughts, then to my disbelief they became angry at me, when their thoughts came out wrong. Why get angry at me, why me all I can do is hold that thought that was given to me, be it sad or happy. I don’t want to die because of that thought but I was, they began, to poke and stab at me. But that wasn’t enough my body was picked up and pulled apart piece by piece. I know that I won’t be the first or the last, soon their would be more to rest on the floor, just pieces of dead thoughts.