Am I not meant to tire of these mundane motions,
these wasteful wants and desires of deeds I should abolish,
Or do I appear as some carved creature in rock so solid,
that you would not find it needful to keep company with?
Am I to be a skipped stone across icy lakes in summers,
not warm for freezing bones in such merciless measures,
Or do you throw me to lift lead as I weigh you down,
that I would not crack and crumble upon force flung?
Am I only a passing partake to be found, used and rubbished,
to be recycled and reused for no better purpose but pleasure,
Or do I reek fumes fatal to your nasal cavities to cause you disgust,
that I would not starve soulessly in the wake of your detesting disposal?
This poem can be read on poetry.com –http://poetry.com/poems/235939