I cannot rot in lowered confidence until it decomposes me
It seems the only thing by my side these days is time
As time fades away, it stales the moment
Dry, brittle, crack feelings in its crumb-like existence
Hoping it will turn into sawdust inside my mind
But as the particles remain, so does remnants of my faith
Spilled milk spoiled,
Crying over wasted emotional goods that have expired…
Not great for a newer display for this assumed commodity
Never wanting to be out of season and in the clearance department
Sold at a price below my worth
At a cost, less a few cents of a bill
Seems the shelf-life of my self-esteem was not imperishable
And unbeknownst to me how to preserve it in a jar
The preparation of the presentation of prettied wax paper and a bow
It did nothing for the sale of intentions
Just distracted you, the window observer from looking at tampered merchandise
Now hoping to go back to the Manufacturer to become a better product
The conveyor belt on this assembly line is no good for me
I’ve been renewed and repackaged and yet there is no other creation like me
There is no way I can be re-shelved
I am not a buyer’s product; there isn’t an online auction for me
My Inventor proud of his repair, displayed me after He refurbished
Tagged “Not for Sale”
Hoping WORTH becomes a billboard and others would want it
© Shantelle ‘Elle’ McLin
Excerpt from the book Beyond Nursery Rhymes; Real Life Tales
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About the Author
Recreational writing began for this author at the age of 9 in journal formatting. Her creativeness was sparked in Middle school during a notable visit to the library with her best friend. With an outdated range of selections, she instantly identified with the poets’ generations before her; she had found her outlet.
While facing great personal difficulties, Elle treated poetry as a feel-good remedy to her melancholic episodes. This would become freeing to a young and timid adolescent, as she discovered her voice. Writing would become a soother and her pen, a microphone to express her challenges.
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