She Sells Sea Shells and so on

 

An empty shell.

Used to be a colourful shell, one you’d want to have around your house.
A pretty trophy, fun for the senses.
You’d be glad you’d found it.
Now it’s faded, broken.
Now it’s fading, breaking.
You see bits of remaining colour, it’s nice.
Soon even that colour will go, crack, fade.
Then all you’ll have, is cracked shell.
Like an egg shell, more like.
To sweep up and throw in the bin.

But for now, still, an empty shell.
With a few bright colours here and there.
Good job some good stuff came out of it.
Stuff came out and moved it along.

Like a snail’s single wobbly leg.
Stuff came out and moved it along nicely and
then the stuff got away.

Stuff went in and out,
the empty shell was never useless.
Eventually though, it will get discarded, or it will shatter to its remaining frail pieces.

Cause who wants a broken empty shell?

 

 

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