Confessions of a Persian Rug

I was beautiful once. I remember being beautiful. I was bright and bold, I brought color to their lives.

Then they began to use me. I was exposed to the world and the ones who were supposed to love and care for me began to put me down and once I was down they kicked me and kept kicking until I felt I would never stand tall again.

What could I do but lie there and take it?

They would walk all over me without even looking down. They would walk over me without thought, without even knowing I was there. I might as well have been part of the furniture.

I sit back and wonder why must they walk all over me? I guess you might say because I allow it. I do suppose it was my fault for laying there so long.

Why did I accept this mistreatment you ask? Maybe I got used to laying there, maybe I got used to them walking over me. You can get used to anything if you take it long enough. You might say I should get up and leave if I don't like it but don't you know that I can't?