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They stick labels on broken things that say damaged

Damaged but still usable 
because why would you throw something away when it’s just a little broken, battered or bruised, we pride ourselves in preservation and welcome a sense of self gratification for taking these sad objects and selflessly giving them a home that ordinarily people wouldn’t do

Of course it’s lessened in value so naturally we reduce the price 
because who would want to pay in full for something Worn? 

Just stick it on the shelf next to the perfect ones or better yet throw it in a bin with all the others not to dissimilar in wear, for people to carelessly rummage through because after all what’s done is done; it’s already broken. 

Chipped glass wear or cracked china, that’s all it is, tarnished but not quite enough, you can get more use out of me Im certain 

The toy with the pulley string that no longer works just as my voice grows weaker with each argument 

The roses that have slightly wilted just as colour in my cheeks 

The jumper with a fray that unravels with every wear just as I do. 

Time causes wear just as people do. 

I’m damaged but still usable in fact I’m easier to use as I’m already broken in. And after all if you get something shiny and new you actually have to look after it to keep it that way.
I wish someone took care of me when I was shiny. 

Men see me now I’m tainted and tired, riddled with scars from the bodies that have handled me in the past
But you see them as clear as you see me
They act as a blueprint you know just where to knock me so I don’t shatter completely. 
Just how to pull me so I don’t unravel too much 

This way you can keep using me over time, remaining confident in the fact I’m still here for your pleasure
She'll never leave the man that saved her from wasting away

But eventually I’ll break, I'll break to the point of no return
so you'll take me back to a charity shop once again telling yourself your doing me a favour, giving me a new lease of life
After all it’s the kindest thing to do

I’m returned even more broken and bruised than before. My lifeless body displayed once again for everyone to see, I go down in value. But at least your continuous is clean because you've convinced yourself I’m still worth something to someone anyone 

But each time it happens I pray this time I get thrown in the bin. Because how much more use can I take
How many more owners can my body handle. 

This endless conveyor belt that leaves me just empty enough to accept anyone that will claim me for their own because anyone that wants a broken toy is a good person right ? 

A person I hope will work to restore me, repaint me, intend to keep me this time a forever home I can call my own. 

But still I stay just empty enough just tarnished enough to keep the little red sticker that reads damaged once again
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