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To Jennifer Warren's previous piece
Property of Goodwill I have been woven through time, on the hands of faith picking me up with the knitting needles of promise and turning me into sweaters and scarves. You use me. You say I'm not cool enough, or hot enough. You violate me, squirming inside of me, making me dirty, ashamed...worn out. My (mo)hair is tangled, Snagged and tattered. I'm not what I used to be. You say I'm not beautiful or attractive.... and you toss me out with the faith that I will find something better. Labeling me property of Goodwill.
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