Lying limp, washed up
Sitting on the sink's side
Soiled from repetitive use...
Destroyed through time.
Corners are fraying,
Threadbare and discolored
Evidence of habitual scrubbing centered,
Framing the core.
It's about time, now, they say
Eyes large and hollow
Time to replace that old thing...
It's done, the interim ended.
No regret, there, no regret in eyes wide open
Shutters drawn so tightly
No regret... only disdain, disregard.
Washed up and used,
Tribulation illustrated through
The patchy thread-work...
Purpose seemingly gone and tired
Pay no heed, they mean no harm.
They know not what they do.
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