I am swept off the road into an old shop
Souvenirs and little pieces of the past
sewn, sculpted and baked
They made space on the shelf for me
But I was soaked from the rain
So they directed me outside
chipped away at my insecurities
And painted over the bruises
They let me dry out in the shop window
Will I wear this smile until I'm sold?
or packed away for inventory
No factory of origin to speak of
Window glass became my eyes
footsteps then doorbell my ears
I settled in with pre-autumn dust
Unable to see the price on my ankle tag
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