Disposable

I am disposable.

The thing that keeps you entertainted.

The thing that helps you, compliments you.

Makes times that would be alone more fun.

The person whos reactions you love.

But after awhile. Your bored.

You realize my reactions arent cute.

You think they're annoying.

You cant stand when Im sad.

You cant stand that I am broken.

Instead of trying to help you look in disgust.

I am no longer fun.

I am no long entertaining.

You throw me away.

Till the next person comes.

To them I am treasure.

Till time passes.

Then they feel the same.

Someone finally finds me and wants me to be their only.

My past catches up and what should feel right is clouded.

I cant tell what's genuine anymore.

I dispose of them.

I feel guilt.

Whats wrong with me.

Someone new has me now.

And I wonder how much longer till they realize I am disposable.