The document is from the perspective of a school bag describing how children treat it. The children abuse the bag, calling it names and kicking it out of the way. They dump leftovers and trash inside it, use it to scratch themselves, and punch and throw it around when angry. Yet every morning the same children gleefully toss the bag onto their shoulders and march off to school hugging it, showing how children's attitudes can quickly change from abuse to affection towards an object.

1. SCHOOL BAG
They uninhibitedly abused me in their own innocently gathered slangs; terming me an
unnecessarily bulky mountain of nothingness,
They scorned at me like I was a piece of rotten charcoal; nonchalantly dismissing me
away from their rhapsodic activities for the day,
They told me I was good for nothing but presumptuously preaching them; when they
wanted to frolic and play in their mortal capacities,
They admonished me for being a laggard; sauntering at a pace slower than dead
stone; at times even seeming like a gargantuan unmovable boulder to their delicate
palms,
They indignantly kicked me out of the way; as I appeared a jocular misfit amidst their
row, shelf, floor and tub of surreal dolls and majestic toys,
They had the time of the life trying to snap me in entirety from my seams; stealthily
poking me with that mischievous scissor using all their might; before mummy had a
chance to stringently intervene,
They disdainfully stood over me using me as a perfect bridge; to form a perfect circle
with their joyously unfettered hands; hands intertwined in innocuous hands,
They rebelliously dumped stale leftovers of their food; socks; chewing gum; clay; into
my forlorn interiors- just to teach me a lesson for burdening their shoulders; on
which they wanted to carry their favorite chocolate,
They mockingly used me with gay abandon to scratch wherever they wanted; which
gave them that quintessential wave of relief as well as saved their tiny hands
the bother,
They impudently held me in their nimble hands criss-crossed in absence of their
plastic swords; and flung me with great fervor to see who won in their game of the
musketeers,
They taunted me in the most sardonic of their tones for seeming like a piece of junk;
whose resting place was infact the dumpyard instead of the delectably cozy realms of
their compassionate abode,
They advised me like an adult to find a worthwhile job and be constructively engaged;
rather than whiling away my time nagging their inimitably fragrant childhood,

2. They considered me as the most abominable outsider; shutting me tight into their
cupboards as they discussed their secrets and intrepid plans to be consolidated into
action soon,
They had me shred into smithereens of insipidness at the tiniest of opportunity;
hurling me to the hungry vultures in their backyards to disintegrate and devour,
They vowed not to talk to those who gave me as a Happy Birthday present to them;
as they’d rather go without a gift- than involve themselves into the practicality of life
with me by their side,
They slapped me most impeccably as only they could do; venting their entire fury on
me as a mute spectator; whenever reprimanded by their parents for not doing home-
work,
They used me as a perfect punching bag; boxing into my countenance with their
uninhibitedly raw palms- emulating their favorite Boxing stars preparing for the big
Wrestling day,
Yet. And ironically Yet. The same kids tossed me gleefully the next morning upon
their pristine shoulders; marched with unfettered abandon towards their school-
hugging me like I was a prince,
No. Incase you assumed that I was something of a royal charmer, let me assure you I
wasn’t any of that. But I was what you mortals might’ve addressed as school bag as
you grew up by the grace of the Almighty Lord.