I was once something that carried a message with ideas, emotions, and a purpose, made from thoughts. For only a short time do I exist to serve my purpose, 
how well can my kind accomplish our goals when we are so mortal. I wish to be carefully given and taken, for It only happens once for each of us. 

I began my journey, I was ready to fulfill my goal, ever thing I was meant for counted that moment. I was egger to finally complete what meant every thing too me, but it was short-lived, I was not taken, I went right through the one who was meant to receive me.

I began to dissipate... the responsibilities I existed for ceased to exist... the ideas I carried disappeared… and the emotions that made it worthwhile, suddenly meant nothing… I could not fulfill the propose of my journey… my existence was pointless… and thoughts that created me began to weep…

How many of my kind have led lives that lead to nothing...? how many of us have suffered this way…? 

When my kind is accepted, it's an accomplishment. Even When my kind is denied, we still serve our purpose. However when we are ignored, when we are brushed off, when we reach no one... it's a tragedy.