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Walked Upon
You are a once colorful and valued Persian carpet...now faded and tread bare. Who walked upon you? Poetry or prose.
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Sydneyjay
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It’s all about purpose

I remember coming into this world, this home outside of my birthplace. Although, I felt like an assrug for leaving my friends and family behind, I had a purpose to find and I wasn't ashamed about letting myself be taken away.

It's probably an insult to my unique, well woven birth family to admit this but I loved my new family. I brought color and beauty to their lovely home. I did what I was made for. I let them use me as a stepping mat, marking the path that raised them to whatever heights they wished. I absolved their spilled mistakes and took their apologetic cleaning with love and forgiveness.

It was a life well lived and I harboured no hatred for them at all when my work was finished and they needed to replace the ghost of what I used to be. I'd been witness to humans who searched endlessly for their purpose in this life. Some found it but some lost themselves or died before they could fulfill their destiny. I had already fulfilled mine.

There were worst ways to go.

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