All day, I hear you sit and
complain
of growing older.
Complain of how your bones are beginning to creak.
Complain of how wrinkles are creasing your face.
Complain of gaining dead weight.
Well as you complain amongst your girlfriends, you
fail to realize I, too, am aging.
When you first brought me in your office I was young.
Polished, smooth.
I even had a glossy look to me.
But now, you don't even notice how you treat me.
You, yes, you, have imprinted wrinkles into my skin.
You have caused me to appear older than I am,
sound older than I am.
I creak and groan as you go about your day,
oblivious,
to the pain you've caused.
Well I won't tke it anymore missy.
I'm done taking your disrespect.
Without me, you'd be working on the floor.
Wihtout me, you'd look foolish among your coworkers.
Without me, you're nothing.
No job,
No money,
No reputation.
So stop treating me as trash.
Stop slamming things down.
Stop writing so hard you dent my skin.
Stop disrespecting me.
I was a gift, if you remember,
so is that why you treat me as you do?
Because you didn't have to pay for me
yourself?
If you keep this up, you soon will have to
pay
for something new
and they won't care for you
as I do.
Or, as I use to.
But since you starrted treating me this way,
I long for the day when you will pay
so I can leave to rest in peace.
Ah, rest.
That sounds so sweet to me ears.
No more banging, slamming, groaning, or
complaining.
Just peace.
Pure bliss.
Rest.
Silence.
---------
No longer am I young,
and so I care not to look as such.
Instead, I wear my battle scars with pride,
showing what I went through,
what I endured,
to become what I am today:
Something useful.
Something that helped this world.
Something that learned and grew from
Every scratch,
Every dent,
Every stain,
From both coffee and pen.
Something being made new.
I'd trade my beauty for wisdom
any day,
and that is what I have done.
Instead of complaining,
You, too, should appreciate
what you've become.
What you've become should always
Always
be better than who you were.
I can say that.
Can you?
05 Nov. 2012
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