Now I'm gone

I'm a sponge.
I can help you clean,
I can make you shine.

Yet like a sponge,
I get old.
My surfaces get scratches first,
Especially on those knives,
But soon im cut deep through the middle.

But this doesn't stop you,
From using me.
You pile your problems up on top of me.
But then im lost.
The 'water' was never drained.
I rot and start to become useless

This still dosnt stop you.
You clean me by roughly washing me,
I'm still not perfect.
I still have a gouge in my middle.

You use me and use me.
You have no right to do that,
Or do you?
I forgotten how to leave
I have forgotten if i can.

This still doesn't stop you.
You dispose of me,
I'm useless after all,

oh, look.
another..