One by one they left the safety of
their box and entered the world.
They steeled themselves against the war
that is the life of protective plastic.
Enduring the onslought of the elements,
the pushing and prodding, inside and out.
Tumbling around backpacks and
hand-bags as if in a tumble dryer.
Occassionally they returned to
the drawer of their birth.
Scrubbed clean, only to be
sent out once more.
Then slowly, day by day,
they succembed.
Honourable lives lead in defense
Of the mundane, came to an end.
And so, they left our lives,
a race died out;
a vacant space arrived in the fourth drawer down.