The girl sat alone at a desk inside a deserted barn. The barn was deserted because it wasn't a real place. Cartographers had put it on a map years ago as a copyright trap. It was only a paper town. How fitting, a paper girl in a paper town.

The girl caressed the dark leather of the black moleskin notebook she held firmly in long slim fingers. The dark red paint that had once adorned them—a night faraway in another life—was long since chipped off. She opened the book and was met with familiar flowing words crisscrossing across the pages. She flipped to a blank page and laid a worn ballpoint pen to the paper.

And Margo Roth Spiegelman began to write.

I Am a paper Girl in a paper Town And this is the Song of Myself.

I am a writer,
Who Scrawls the dreams and Hopes of a ten-Year old girl,
And the Plots and schemes Of a high school senior.

I am a planner,
Who will stay Up nights Plotting And scheming acts Of valor,
Only to Be disappointed when everything goes according To Plan.

I am a Restless spirit,
Who cannot and Will Not bear To live in a town made Of paper,
Where all the Buildings are flimsy and the People transparent.

I am a lover Scorned,
Who spent her childhood building Up the image of a dauntless Hero,
Only to have It proven Wrong and then right Again.

I Am clay,
That which Anyone who Comes along can Mold Into whatever shape
They Wish to please Themselves.

I am a mirror,
Not a Window, for I Reflect back what Others want to see In me,
Rather Than reveal who I am.

I am A spider web,
With strings Stretching out in every direction Quivering with Anticipation
Being cut One by One.

I Am a paper girl in a Paper Town and this Is The Song of Myself

Paper Towns belongs to John Green and "Song of Myself" belongs to Walt Whitman (though this is not an excerpt from the poem).