The Thrift Store

Here I hang, in a thrift store window.
These hangers are rusty,
as are my feelings.
I've been owned and used by previous owners,
and now I'm only worth half as much.
Although, my asking price is half as much as well.
You label me desperate,
I label me cynical.
Why are you in a thrift store anyways, can't you afford top of the line?
I am discarded, thrown out with last month's newspapers.
The headlines read heartbreak,
your nametag reads "I make the headlines."--
Quite the coincidence.
These hangers are rusty,
as are your words.
Don't open your mouth if you're only going to spit out recyclables;
Give me something new,
become something new.
Recycling has become a vicious cycle;
We can no longer be reused.
I'm wearing so thin,
I'm wearing so thin.
This place smells of dust,
as does your heart.
There is no 'us,' we've fallen apart.
You say I wear you out,
I say you wear me out--
We're both growing so tired.
It's not my lack of sleep that makes my eyes so heavy,
It's my lack of you.
My ribs are cracking, my back is breaking--
all from the weight of this heavy heart.
I'm falling apart,
I'm falling apart--
I'm not worth a thing anymore.
And yet, here I hang in this thrift store window.
This place smells of dust,
as do I.