thoughts on being unique

the more rare something is the more valuable and consequently the greater the desire to own and control and use so that many people walk around trying to handle and touch and make something they do not possess a little closer to their own liking and sometimes you find that you are that something, that rarity, that oddity, and maybe more often than sometimes you awake to find yet another person has merely used you and like fingerprints on polished silver tarnished you in an attempt to consume to enthral as if secretly they want to cut you down to their size, to find that your uniqueness will transfer and perhaps make them all they have lost yet as you pick yourself up from the inevitable fall that such consumerism ensues, sadly disenchanted by the realisation that it was not you they desired but the way you made them feel or the way you made their business soar or the way you listened, a glimmer persists in your resilient heart, a hope for as you see in the eyes of a few friends you still hold close not all merely squander the gift of your nonpareil heartbeat, for after all you know who counts every hair and so you again place each shattered dream in His hands, refusing to become like those very cardboard people who mishandled you and instead shine again in hope that though lonely be the road His smile will see you home