i am the
dust that collects on your most unused item
the smallest cluster of lint that you pick off your
beloved sweater
the valueless box labeled 'toys' in your
garage
the trivial workbooks given to you in kindergarten
i am the largest cloud that you mumble
upon on a sunny day
the miniscule hole in the midpoint of your shirt
the tiny specks of brown and black embedded in your
looseleaf paper
the dips in the sidewalk you avoid stepping in
i am the useless umbrella that fails to
stay open
the blinds that never close properly
the mug that has a crack running down its side
the tags on your brand new clothing you rip off so
violently
this is what i am and what i continue to
be
and do not tell me otherwise
because we both know that your brain and your
mouth
are saying opposite
things