Kicked to the curb

Headless weave.

Dear Weave,

I never knew you in your former life and I don’t think I would have wanted to. But, you know; I take that back. You may have been around the right people. The right person probably took you from a rack and claimed you herself.

Don’t be ashamed. You’re out there in the street for the past week. Look at the bright side, it’s not your fault. You may have started out as a horse, some plastic-y stuff or a lovely Indian woman. But, you now rest in between a police station and a 7-11.

You inspired me to write this o’ weave. If never I see you again, just know that there are many of you out there. And if this made no sense — good. It wasn’t supposed to.

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