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I am sitting here on Christmas Eve
rejected by the elves
at the back of Santa’s workshop.
on the dustiest of shelves.

For I didn’t pass inspection
when I wouldn’t flash and blink,
and I didn’t have a siren
and I wasn’t neon pink.

The results were disappointing
when they tried to pull my string,
and they found I didn’t have one
that would make me dance and sing.

So they stuck me in the corner
with the rusted fishing reels
and the half a deck of playing cards
and oval skateboard wheels.

Feeling useless and unwanted
as a solitary mitten,
I am sitting here on Christmas Eve
a broken-hearted kitten.