The Tale of the Poor Bottle
Combined sands, chemicals and used glass beads,
From these materials, I came to exist,
I`m heated, molded, air-blown and annealed,
Now, look! I am a bottle indeed!
I stored liquors, that` s one of my use,
Beer, gin, rum, whisky, and wine–you can choose,
And when I` m packaged, you`ll be amused,
I` m glossy and beautiful - you`ll be seduced!
This time, I` m a bottle of gin liquor,
And few men purchased me at the store,
They enjoyed the party and were not bored,
They` re dropped `til bottoms up and have no more!
So I was happy because they liked me,
Until the host of the party took me,
And presto! He hammered and pounded me,
Oh! Poor bottle! Why it happened to me?
Given the chance to inquire and speak,
I will ask my master questions like these:
“Are you a psycho, you struck me quick?
Or you wanted to die, for you are sick?”
Until I saw a light flashing on me,
In every angle he took shots of me,
Then pieces by pieces, he cast out me,
Into the trash can–my final destiny!
So now, I` m still in the garbage can,
But I` m glad to see what my boss has done,
I` m distorted, yet superbly redone,
I was turned into an art; Oh! What a hand!
Therefore I conclude, my boss is not bad,
Though sometimes, he` s stressed and very mad,
He can create things lovely in his hands,
For he makes “ME” beautiful inside and out!
Drafted on: June 8, 2010