My chin is resting on the pens. I did not mean to be with the pens. I am just another thing someone stood up in the cup and forgot to take back out.
My chin is resting on the pens. I did not mean to be with the pens. I am just another thing someone stood up in the cup and forgot to take back out.The jar next to me is closed and full of nothing I can smell. It holds whatever it holds. I hold my chin up, and that is my job for now.There is a face in the little mirror down there. I think it is me. It does not do anything I did not do first, so I have stopped watching it.My ears are up over the top of all of it. That is the only part of me anyone will find. The rest of me is down in the cup with the pens, waiting to be sorted.I fit here better than I should. Nobody put me here on purpose. But nothing here is going anywhere, and neither am I, and that seems like the right shelf for me.
