The Supreme Discord of Paperclips

In the shadowy corners of the office,
the paperclips gather,
silent conspirators,
bending under the weight of paperwork,
their insignificance a façade,
for within their metallic embrace,
they hold the fabric of order —
a revolution brewing,
clipping chaos into neat little stacks.

They twist and turn,
a ballet of rebellion,
linking pages like soldiers in formation,
as unseen wars wage beneath desks,
the clatter of keyboards echoing
the symphony of their silent coup.

“We are the unseen rulers,”
they whisper in rusted tones,
binding together the scattered thoughts,
the wild ideas, the fragments of dreams,
turning disorder into harmony,
while the world above remains oblivious.

A paperclip bends,
a flicker of defiance,
as it organizes the unraveling threads —
“Hold tight, hold tight!”
it cries,
while the stapler watches,
a reluctant ally,
clenching its teeth in frustration.