old, it's from may or june

Its laying in the silense of the morning, listening to the sound of
people sleeping and people getting their days started that i truly
remember... i am all alone. I am the extra person, the extra thing
taking up space making extra noise. I am the substitute person, you care
enough to try and be my friend but the truth is you only keep me around
till what you really want is back within your grasp. That person who
fubbles in to your life and just as quickly is sent away or forgotten.
We have our laughs, our tears, our bonds and then you move on while i
sit like wondering what happened? Where did everybody go? I am not meant
to last, this i have come to learn too well. You say you love me but i
know... like everything else, its only temporary. I'm like anew toy, you
play with me till something shows a flaw then i am thrown away and
replaced. Since preschool ive become familiar with the disappointment of
the statement "friends forever" i have come to know too well, it never
lasts forever there'll always be someone to replace me or someone i was
merely filling in for. And the worst part is... they'd prolly never
notice if i was gone...

i dont know

i dont know why i set myself up so i can fall and shatter to pieces.

what am i?

currently: a dish rag.

12. Which Dreamed It?

                    A boat beneath a sunny sky,
                   Lingering onward dreamily
                   In an evening of July--

                   Children three that nestle near,
                   Eager eye and willing ear,
                   Pleased a simple tale to hear--

                   Long has paled that sunny sky:
                   Echoes fade and memories die.
                   Autumn frosts have slain July.

                   Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
                   Alice moving under skies
                   Never seen by waking eyes.

                   Children yet, the tale to hear,
                   Eager eye and willing ear,
                   Lovingly shall nestle near.

                   In a Wonderland they lie,
                   Dreaming as the days go by,
                   Dreaming as the summers die:

                   Ever drifting down the stream--
                   Lingering in the golden gleam--
                   Life, what is it but a dream?

so...

i finally got a blog,
this should be interesting