A possession
Once deemed valuable
Or so you said
But I’m beginning
To think that
I was second-rate,
Not worthy of
Your full attention.
A hand-me-down
Passed on from
The former and
Grabbed greedily
As if holes made
By the previous owner
Could be
Repaired easily.
But seeing as they
Couldn’t because there
Was more to it
Than was visible to you
You picked me up
And went looking
For how you could
Discard me.
You returned me
To your local Goodwill
And I was shoved
To the bottom of
The clearance bin.
Now no one sees value
In me because I’m
Worn and used up.