Why is it I?
who is in a time to come,
Forgotten -
Inconvenient -
Rejected -
Replaced -
Unwanted!

While you are,
in a time to come,
Free -
Purposeful -
Popular -
Favored -
Desired!

Why is it I?
who may one day sleep
in a dust covered coffin
up in the attic,
where light is forbidden
to ever reach me.

While you
will be as awake
and as alive
as the sun itself
which shines brightly for you now
wherever your life takes you.

Why is it I?
whose usefulness will slip away,
and, with it, my pride,
my dignity, my joy,
will all fade into a nothingness
and all that i am now will be unreachable.

While you
will have a purpose,
which will be forever fulfilling
and your pride,
you dignity, your joy,
will blossom and bloom
for you are the future.

Why is it I?
who will be spurned by my lovers;
who will be cast out without that compassion
to which i am accustomed;
and whose heart and world will break
at the loss of your caressing and gentle hands.

While you
will steal my lovers' hearts
and capture their compassion
which will be your gift,
your treasure, your sense of security
and you will bask in your popularity.

Why is it I?
who will no longer be chosen
or selected or favored or even there,
as if all thoughts of me will become non-existant,
and simply to hard to recall
just because i am not everyone or everything.

While you
are the new favorite,
the successor, the replacement
that everyone thinks of and goes to,
and you gladly oblige,
for now you are everyone and everything.

Why is it I?
who may one day be unwanted,
when it is i who should be desired.
I envy your youth
and your accommodating nature.
Yet your path will push me far away.

A sigh escapes my pages
as i am placed on a shelf.
My face, sadly titled,
for now only my binding faces out
and i'm left to ponder my chances
of how long my generation will last,
and if our future is evident.