MY FATHER WAS A SHAMEFUL BIFOCAL

No time to cry now for this little boy Contact Lens. No time to appease the yesterday memory of my dead father. He was a shameful piece of bi-focal, a spin-off, dead god to all those who respect the reading glasses of this world. I am set to be sold like an old boot, or a handkerchief or two stray cats. Being a contact lens, one would assume I would have a better sense of humor. To be honest, this emotion was never my strong point, which will probably be my downfall. I am, after all, disposable. Like the person that buys me, my worth is directly proportionate to my usefulness to others. Anyway, lets see. Shit happens in life. Strange stuff. Situations one never expects.