The Waterbottle

December 16, 2017

A life of plastics and dyes, born with trillions of brother and sister only to spend the rest of my time alone. SItting here, as I am now, half-full and so, so thirsty. I am crumpled. Gripped, and squeezed, ferociously twisted open and closed, sharp teeth gnawing at my top with all the gentleness a dragon gives suckling its mother. All I wish is to be filled and left so, but instead I am teased and tortured, my life’s longing sucked away to quench and supply. No respect is given to who can so easily be left behind, so easily melted, bashed, and broken. I could roll through the world forever, never finding peace, or happiness, only the swift splash of being filled, filled, filled...

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