For Sale

I consciously placed a sale tag on a non-discountable good.
The one timeless peice,
People would merely walk in and admire,
Was on sale.

Aware,
But based on pure frustration, 
I wanted it to go.
Those who walked in
To purely admire it,
Were in disbelief
Those who had never seen it before, knew it was a steal.
Commotion at the door.

Flipped
Tossed
Tugged
Dropped
Scratched and
Pulled
All the way to the till
They, all of a sudden forgot I had value
For that moment
I was worth that 50% I had placed on me.

Shocked, that even those that knew me
Were willing to walk all over me.
I remembered who I was.
My true value
My worth.

I placed me back to where I belonged
They weren’t happy
They might not even view me for a very long time.
But I’m happy.
I’m happy I got myself back
I then began to stitch myself together
and began to acknowledge my worth.

Every scar
Every follicle
Every strand of hair
Specifically crafted.

I realised why I don’t go flying off the shelves like those around me.
I was not made in a sweat shop.
Every part of me was hand crafted.
Features of my mother and father merged together on face.
Although they are no longer together.
I am both of them.
But in their bothness, 
I am me.
A timeless peice.
Never willing to put myself on sale again.

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