Bin Lining

I woke in the middle of the night with this image in my head.

Thousands of kids line the shelf,
Shining their trophies, proving themself.
And I'm the child that's in the bin,
I've had my fun, but done no sin.

I had my chance to be like them, live in the light,
But I saw no chance to live my life right.
To be a face of thousands? or to be one of one?
Sometimes security musn't exist for living to be done.

The sun filters through the plastic bin lining,
Displaying my surroundings, showing what's truly defining.
The empty space, it's just me, alone,
It's hard to accept it when it's where you call home.

I glance at the kids, all smiling, the same,
As my thoughts wander, how could they bare the pain?
Of being identical? Not knowing what's true?
Needing others to tell them what to do?

Thousands of kids line the shelf,
Smiling to replace the lack of trus self.
Individuality isn't itself when you're just like the rest,
Having to turn to others to know what's best.

Life is so sweet, so short, it's meant to be formal,
To follow the crowd, follow the flow, be normal.
Seems that different is lonely, all I have is myself.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being a child on the shelf.