I am the wrapper after the candy,
The stalk after the dandelion seeds,
The skin after the watermelon.
I am the last player to be picked,
The last friend to come to mind,
The last resort, the last option.
I am the refill after the ink has run out,
The calender after the year has passed,
The ruined masterpiece, crumpled up and cast in a corner.
I have no significance for anyone or anything- truly worthless, an outcast, a waste.
I have nothing to offer but my dried up tears and my sunken eyes