In The Mind Of A Maker

07|Worn

I am like an old worn out leather suitcase, ripping at the seems, too useless to be tugged around, too worried to unravel.

But empty. So incredibly empty.

The only thing present that of a faded musk, showing signs of a time when a presence was still there, but now-

But now I'm empty.

There is no presence.

And I wait.

And wait.

Until all I feel is a deep numbness and the exasperation of "when will I finally be thrown away?" as I continue to sit at the top of the darkest closet; forgotten and covered in layers of dust by those who have left me.

Abandoned me for the new.