You are fragile like a wine glass,
when you fall to the floor and shatter into a million pieces,
people will still walk on you,
they will cut their feet and blame you for it,
and although my feet are bleeding,
my anger is directed only towards the man who pushed you off the edge.
What inherent flaw?
what celestial wrong?
missing ingredient?
failed experiment?
am I?
how am I so unlovable,
that no one comes to hold,
my sorry hand?
Am I right?
No,
You’re not always right,
Just suck it up,
Or yell at me, fight!
Walking through an art museum,
reading all the signs,
try to trace back the thought process,
paid parking's outta time,
leave with paintings stuck inside my head,
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