By K.D. Lyons

To you, I am a commodity
I am what you earned
I am the prize, the gold medal
For all of your hard work
I was blinded by my own reflection
But my eyes are unshrouded now

You never wanted me in truth
You wanted something shiny and new
So, tell me now, what will you do
When time leaves its marks,
When age dulls my spark?

Eventually, I’ll be a relic of bygone days
I’ll no longer bring glory to your trophy case
So, tell me now, what will you do,
What excuses will you say
When you leave me for someone half my age?