How do you feel when you think of rust.......thats exactly what I am .I am not there originally but born over the years of mishandling and misuse perhaps also due to negligence and nonacceptance.The oxblood of rose might look pretty to everyone but the red on me is so not encouraging .No one sees me bleeding but eveyrone admires my complexion when the sun at dusk takes my color.Why am I so underappreciated and treated as junk when I am not a creation of my own I am here because this is what you made me and now you dont want me.......WHERE DO I GO?
I remember myself as a child fortunate enough like you my dear reader who had hands to hold ,shoulders to lean and hearts full of love to swade away all my pain.Amidst all this was the decision ,The decision of giving away my heart, lending my soul
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