(Through this poem, I hope to give a voice to the things we often overlook and show how even the simplest object carry stories of their own).
I heard everything,
I heard it all –
The whispers of age against,
“Old, useless, unhelpful,” they said.
The murmurs of my fragile frame,
A relic prone to breaking.
The hushed grief of my failures,
Unable to carry the weight I once could,
I heard the plans to cast me away,
To sell me, trade me,
Forget me.
Yes, I heard everything.
I saw everything,
I saw it all –
The shadows of disappointment
Clouding my owner’s face.
The sting of embarrassment
Etched in their gaze.
I watched my brothers
Go before me,
One by one, replaced.
I saw the tears
They shed for them.
The bittersweet pity they didn’t spare for me
For me, there was only silence
But still, I saw it all.