The Pinecone

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His lanky shoulders droup, and his smile is non-exsistent.  Eyes sealed shut for eternity.  His numerous fingers silken sharp by rough growth, the mean tips scuff fabric on contact.  He's lonely, fallen from his origin of belonging, an outcast.  No possession of vibrant colors that release breath from onlookers.  No gentle whispen and frayed sheets folding from a rich center.  His flattened feet are bland and unattractive.  Sunken nose and smeared ears, no attention is paid to his originality.  His daring spirit and longing eyes are unnoticed or simply breezed away by forgetfulness.  His unique shade of skin blends with the background.  His happiness is stolen by the unobservant...
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