I never could be what you said I would be
Choosing me on that cold metal shelf is aisle 6
On sale and rated poorly
A life of second chances and returns
Taped back together, my outer box ripped and punctured
Eagerly opened dozens of times and tossed aside equally
Never complete always missing a part
The receipt always stored in your wallet
where I belong on aisle 6, pushed back always behind something more interesting
so you don't want to find me
you don't want to fix me for I always come as is completely
you don't want to blow the dust off me
you will return me
back to the cool darkness
on the bottom shelf
of aisle 6.