Not So Silly Puddy

When I grow up...I want to be silly puddy.

Like silly puddy here we are
Torn and ripped leaving a scar

Smashed and crushed until flat
Dropped from a roof, going splat

Stretched apart without remorse
Ripped apart from the force
Applied by your uncaring hand
Then thrown into the dirty sand

Stepped on by many feet
Left to dry on a lonely street

Dried up and forming a crust
Finally strewn about by a gust
Of wind carrying what remains
Further erased with torrentual rains

Nothing left of this not so silly puddy
Just a red, smeared stain that looks muddy.