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play dough

I am just a piece of play dough.
Molding and shaping into whatever people want me to be.
Mixing with all the colours that touch me.
Letting the world
Shape me
Mold me
Crush me
Until they get bored and fit me back into that neat little jar.
What will happen when the day comes that I don't bend anymore?
When I'm dry and brittle, tired of being pushed around.
Then do I become useless
tossed into the trash now that the games over?
Forgetten.
Replaced.
gone



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