I am, I am, I am.

I wrote this because i've realised that i serve no meaning to anybody, i'm merely insignificant. Every day i'm encompassed by people who wouldn't bat an eyelid if i wasn't around. Every day i'm approaching people subconsciously aware that i'm not worth anything to anybody. I thought i'd express it through fundamental actions that we regularly dismiss.

I am the crumpled piece of paper you thoughtlessly disposed of. I am the insiginificant scrunch of paper you defaced, endorsed by the ink. I am the black remains of your scribbles blotched away by your hand. I am the lifeless leaf, trampled by your feet. I am the droplet of water splashed across each annular cheek. I am the shard of glass lying shattered beneath your malevolent eyes. I am the frail shell swept away by the udulating, aromatic sea. I am the page of your book, propelled by the sudden movement of your feeble finger. I am the forlorn flower left deceased by your words, retreated with hast from the dewy grass. I am the puddle your shoes imprudently dashed across. I am the envelope of your letter flung negelectfully, buried under the forgotten waste. I am the incipid smell of the drizzle pondering on your tainted windows. I am a particle of dust annihilated by your brush. I am a fragmentary nothingness, cascaded between the cracks of your consciousness.

The End

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