I, Toilet Paper

I, toilet paper.

Trees bend and are slain for me, for I am almighty.

Excrement is conquered with my touch, for I am heroic.

Queues expand and swell - 6 feet maintained, of course - for my treasures are desired.

Every square perfectly folds into a stack in the hand, for I am flawless in design.

Dripping noses are soothed, for I am soft and absorbant in my 3-ply perfection.

Humans - save those with bidets - need me, for I am boundless in my utility.

Stacks of me are hoarded into washroom closet shrines, for I, toilet paper, am precious.

I am toilet paper, God Of The Afterlife For All Human Excretions.