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Worthless
I sat in the bottom of your purse.
Other more important things,
covering my significance,
not worth a cent.
Every now and then you’d use me,
but only when you needed.
You would avoid me at all cost,
taking your dollars and quarters before me.
I’m worthless to you,
unloved, uncared for, unappreciated,
but those times you needed to pay,
that’s when you’d spend me.
I knew I was uncommon.
Not as shiny or expensive,
but even though I saved you,
you never saved me.
I was nothing more than the pennies at the bottom of your purse.
I was your change.

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