"Second Hand Store" a poem

Picking through my broken parts

Like you were shopping

In a sale's bin

At the second hand shop

Hoping to find someone else's

Left behind trinkets

A trifle or two

Perhaps a good bargain

A cup or a scarf or a shoe

I am scattered

I am wrung into pieces

Here and there

Drawn and quartered into bits

I fear for my recovery

Maybe this is it?

How does one pick themselves up

When laid so low as this?

Will I ever smile again

Without his nimble lips?

I gave him my heart

But that wasn't enough

I shared my soul

I even gave control

Reins in his hands

At the mercy of a man

But still he needed more

Now here I lay weak

And fallen on the floor ~

I'm not for sale

No window shopping here

I'm closed for repairs

Check back with me next year.

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