document, information, abandon, revelation
Piece of information,
Lent and passed through different hands,
Discerning eyes that mark your originality,
And judge you by your surface content.
Not for days of precipitation,
But the far off and unlikely time that you will be needed,
And so there,
In your metal prison you stay,
Gathering dust with others like yourself,
And then you know,
You were never quite so special,
That the discerning eyes that watched you so intently,
Made your fibres blush,
Did nothing but use you.
They had scored ones like you a thousand times before.
The hands that passed you, so gently, to more hands,
They did not care,
The reason they did not let you fall was for their own sake.
And while you sit,
Held upright by the starch of the partitions that label your sorry crowd,
Your corners bend and you discolour,
Not so pure and important,
Created: Nov 15, 2009Document Media