I’m a rogue chocolate wrapper.
Even a gentle breeze sweeps me off my feet.
And again and again I land in the dirt.
On the window sills, in back alleys, on greasy poles I don’t wanna be.
I want the wind to carry me to the world.
All the nice places where all the nice people go.
And when the winds are kind, I do.
I land on the lush, green lawns-
I sunbathe, I refresh.
I’m slapped against statues & monuments-
I ask great people what life really means, I reflect.
Sometimes I’m in corporate marble lobbies-
& I sprint around playing with busy people’s brisk, business feet.
And one time a little girl even put me into her purse.
I’m not trash anymore.
I’m a cherished treasure.
Freedom for a little bit of love- not exactly a bad trade, isn’t it?
So I sit there crammed into a corner of her world.
Feeling happy in a warm, suffocating hug.
And I realise what the statues meant when they said-
‘Happiness is just a state of mind.’
Mulling upon my newfound worth, I wait.
I’m fooled by my own lies.
Do I miss my crazy, windy days…?
And then one day her mom asks her to tidy up.
Or am I arrogantly confident?
I’m tossed into the trash can.
I land into a tin of carbonated drink.
The lazy, bubbles give me a half hearted lift.
I cry, but nobody knows.
And then, after who knows how long- I’m free again.
Back on a greasy pole.
I’m struggling to see the bright lights.
The wind is worried.
It carries me to the places I used to enjoy.
But I don’t flutter, I don’t play.
I just sit on my butt and lay there.
Getting stepped on by busy, business feet.
Loosing my sweetness every time I’m squeezed.
Thinking trashy thoughts knocked down people think about.
Convinced I’m nothing more than trash.
Lying discarded, on the edge of the life.
A neglected protector of the sweetness of the world.
That’s my story…
I’m a crumpled chocolate wrapper.
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