i was born out of a kiln,
glistening and ready to shine,
silver accents glinting on metal skin,
starlight in darkest night.
but my creators wanted pure gold,
the color of wealth, fortune, and luck,
and instead they were stuck with me
whose yellow wasn’t enough
and whose silver wasn’t the best.
so i sat on the highest shelf,
year after year,
waiting for someone to love me.