I feel as if I’m a stepping stone

worn from all of the walking and weather.

I thought you were different, but I should have known;

my life just seems to never come together.

My beauty was once so bright but fragile;

one would walk on me with caution.

Now I am older, and my soul has been rattled;

they now seem to stomp on me quite often.

The imprints of your steps remain on my body,

the gentleness you once had has faded.

I am now only one of your vast hobbies,

lying alone, slowly being wasted.

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