My Story

Sheen, G9

I used to be an important item, a picture frame in fact

I used to hold a photo, of a small young boy with faded blond hair and an intelligent gaze

Accompanied by a middle-aged woman, with silky brown hair and a dazzling smile

I used to be displayed, on top of drawers, all over the place

I used to be admired, and smiles always greets me

Paired with nostalgia, I am the most exquisite item you would ever meet

With fine gold encrusted emblems, I ooze the feel of special, I ooze magnificence

My master now had wrinkles on his forehead, with a plump red face and a hairy gray beard He always carried around a bottle of water all the time, Usually sipping it throughout the day But draining it every night

Whenever he had finished his drink, he would stagger like he was about to fall His face would turn red and his volume would be deafening

Whenever he did this though, a peculiar action always followed He would storm into a room and would shout with all his might I would hear whimpers and cries following

And in the morning when the sun rose high and mighty

The boy in my picture would appear, with a glum face and a depressing walk

I noticed that his skin was always purplish, some blue, some green

Like a floral pattern encrusted on his body

Yet, one night I heard a soft pitter-patter at the door

And the next morning, I heard a roar of rage

My master came running through the hall, grabbing his coat and deserting the house

After a long while he had returned with the same glum look the boy had always worn

Then suddenly, he ran at me, in a fit of rage he threw me to the ground shattering my life

And at that moment, I wondered why would he do such a thing?