Standing here, beside you,
Pain strikes my heart
And sorrow fills my soul
As I sympathize for all you have been through.
You have the anatomy of an empty grave slot
Waiting for a coffin to fulfill its void for all eternity.
But for you,
Your void remains as vacant as the bellies
That sit beside you when they are crying in hunger.
Just as their crying bellies,
Your emptiness is only fulfilled temporarily.
Some days, they dress you
In daisy-woven and sunlight stained fabrics
To hide the cavernous scars
That they brought upon on.
On other days, they leave you naked.
Forcing you to hold their shallow porcelain disks
With burning bottoms
Along with their heavy goblets
With forceful aromas,
Never thinking about the burns or bruises these deeds bring to your bare skin.
The four-legged sculptures that press against you
Disrespect the rules of personal space
And let out groans when they are pulled away from you.
Only once in a while are you shown appreciation,
When you are sprinkled with cozy chemicals
That awakens the shine that was taken away from you.
But it won't last for too long
Because soon the four wooden pillars that bear your very being
Will become too weak and give out.
Soon your shine will go into an everlasting slumber,
And you will realize:
All the burns you swallowed,
All the wine spills you endured,
All the laughter they shared with you,
And all the memories they made with you
Shaped your very being
But meant nothing to them.
Because you are just a kitchen table,
Taking on as many plates as they want you to handle,
But never thinking of yourself.