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Sam Oliver
Poems
Jan 2011
I, The Throwaway
Take Me,
Find a use for me.
It doesn't matter.
All I want
Is to be looked on
With value.
To be given reason
And Purpose.
Make me your shovel,
Make me dig for you.
Make me your sword,
Make me **** for you.
Make me your shield,
Make me guard you.
As your bullet,
I'd pierce for you.
As your grenade,
I'd expel myself for you.
If you need sustenance,
Consume me as would.
My body doesn't matter,
I am expendable,
I am disposable.
I, the throwaway.
Written by
Sam Oliver
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