Trash Day.

I need to know that someone else has their arms around you. My ego needs the searing reality of being replaceable and regrettable. There’s no greater knowledge than that which comes with being easily discarded. Because no one wants to play with a broken toy. I tried upgrading, replacing the batteries, refreshing the paint. I’m nothing but flimsy, chipped plastic parts. Don’t bother taking me to a donation center where I might find a second hand home. Throw me in the garbage and remember that trash day is on Monday.