O B J E C T O F D I S P L A Y

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As soon as you went up,


As soon as ''THEY'' found you won't be there,


I, We became an object of display,


Those eyes which use to stare for a couple of seconds before turning away now stare all the way down at me, scanning everything,


Eyes which never saw me now out of nowhere greet and talk sweetly to me,


Eyes which move past me just to look back at me,


Eyes which keeps on shifting me to my mother,


Eyes. Just eyes,


These same eyes once held a lot of respect towards you,


The hands which saluted you once now somehow find their way to my back,


Hands that shook yours with grin now want to shake mine for no reason,


Hands that used to fold upon confronting you now squeeze my shoulder,


Hands that ate mother's food in feasts now created boundaries,


Hands. Just hands,


Their closure at the billing row, I can smell their cologne,


The two steps gap has gone for good now,


Overfriendly strangers,


There gossip when we take the road,


For how long are you gonna talk about her and me,


There give and take in the name of charity,


New, why are you smiling at me?


Helping hand which eyed for money,


Smooth-talking won't get you any,


People who still envied,


Envied me, my hair, my body,


Envied her for still being classy, busy, and mighty,


People who have no right to be angry,


Angry that we don't share and talk, how silly,


According to memory, you only talked to the wealthy,


People who fake cried for pity, Didn't even shed a tear when they saw your cold lying body in that ally,


Now using our name trying to gain credit, good popularity,


Internally bedeviling her,


Tossing my name around like I'm their daughter,


What have we become, unknowingly,


Even without you, we're a load for many.







P.S. I now know what you did by just sitting at the chair.

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