Stained glass

Water glints and bounces off my

surface like dancers swaying to a silent sound.

Pieces of me laying helpless upon the ground,

grimace with jagged mouths.

Broken beyond repair, I just

lie there.

What am I? What am I?

Spider web creases arch my face,

growing with each passing breeze.

I reflect the world and all it wishes to see,

but it never seems to notice me.

They look past my pane

into the vast possibilities before them.

Why am I? Why am I?

A touch is what I desire, but too hard they press.

it widens the cracks, breeches my safely kept surface, and tarnishes my beautiful night. No one can see through the grime.

How can I? How can I?

See through my eyes as I see nothing myself

but the reflection of what I wish to be.

What am I to do? Why can I not be wanted too?

How can I be beautiful? When I'm

shattered and stained, perfectly preserved and craved;

yet, no one can be my savior. 


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