Waste Paper

Crumpled and tossed, little white flowers decorating the small waste basket in the corner.
I sat in a crumpled heap of bones and tissue and sighs in the same corner where I just- sat.
Punching bag stuffed with 100% prime softer than soft, guaranteed to absorb knuckle bleeds and tears of frustration.
Disclaimer: not equipped to withstand the harder knocks; prior preparation and reinforcement is required in order to assure minimal damage.
I picked at the frayed ends of my spirit to pass the time, knowing such tears could not be mended and that it was only a matter of time before the rips cut through to the very end, or beginning- the origin and terminus of my life cycle. Worn down and transparent, like all my efforts to stop pipe leaks with silk scarfs and promises.
We are grateful for the services rendered, but they are no longer needed at this time. No, there is no need for explanation or clarification. We are sure the product has served it’s purpose in the way it was designed to do.
Spent.

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