I am recycled

I am the same material I was when I was titled,

yet I am now a stranger to that hollow shell.

Only a small time ago I felt like I'd gone through hell,

yet, then, I didn't even know how deep it was.

I am recycled

but not in the sense that I am now used for causes that are vital,

I plan to, we all do, yet I am stil idle.

I tell myself that I will be different soon, and I am,

but am I using that juxtaposition in a way that could let me speak out against damn Uncle Sam?

No.

I am recycled.

I seem stuck in the same cycle.

I can't seem to find the words to show that I am no longer hollow,

so, here I am. Pretending I want to follow.

But not any more.

I am repurposed.

The same old materials, with a new spin.

yet, now more than ever, I know that we all make up a kin.

No matter your color, shape, gender, attraction, or size.

No matter the differences we collect in our own eyes,

We remain the same.

We are all recycled.

And we can all save the world,

even only one year older.