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Life of a bottle colored red

  • People in the crowd
  • Jul 6, 2017
  • 1 min read

Waiting empty, To be filled, Only to be drained to a void again. My cycle of existence. From containers of water To containers of saliva, Different is the shape, size, color, breath, Different is the grip of each one handling me. I have seen many, And yet so many more to come. Shaped and created for them, For them to quench their #thirst, In a city humid,

They pick, use and leave me Anywhere, anytime, however, whereever they please. Sitting in a guest house, Wearing my delicate Red dress, Made of glass, Waiting for another repeat.

Some day, some time, A slip of grip, An unmindful movement, A hit, A fall, And break, I shall... Cleaned away to make sure my dead pieces Wont hurt, Wont make them bleed, Swept off to a place of waste, Forgotten forever, Replaced...

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