I was the happy mat
Glad to be stepped on
Honoured to be lied on
And like the lifeless
Where legs kicked
Was my happy home

Even when my seams strapped
I waited to be stepped on
Refusing to rise
Acknowledging no horror eyes
That mirrored my plight
And pleading mouths
Who sang my pleas
For he was my god
One I gladly worshipped

Even when pride called
In a weak and pleading tone
And bid me farewell
I chuckled and stayed glued
Beauty packed her things and left
And my skin wrinkled in rebellion
Screaming at every kick
Mourning itself at every turn of the clock
As light shouted her disgust upon seeing me
Still I served

Then I saw her
Her, the soul of me
Crying like a widow who loved her husband
Hitting me and feeling her whips
Telling me she would flee
Like a bird
If the end of the served is not severed

There I was
Stupid old brain with no moves
Even the me in mirrors horrored at my sight
So the wake completed
And I left the sad end of the rope
Letting go my god
And breathing life into my inner goddess
I realised then
Leaving what we deem our all
Shows us it really is naught
But he rushed back
Pleading to worship
In my shrine
Not as a god
But as a congregant

The wake was clear sighted
The mask had fallen
The wrong had been righted
The god had fallen
None could turn the hands of time
And so none tried
Shoes today
Rubbish tomorrow
Even if recycled
Will be part of a whole and not the whole
So I walk on
Proudly awake
Smiling widely at the dirt disposed
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 29th July, 2016

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