Fragile
I’m not sure what to do
I’m not sure exactly what I should do.
What do you want me to do?
The days are quickly ticking by, and before I know it -
It’s almost gone.
I know that crying would be useless
Wasteful
And distasteful
Because if they see my tears, I'll end up being ridiculed.
So, I shouldn’t.
But at the same time it’ll be the last time we meet
The last day we’ll laugh together and play together
So what if I shouldn’t?
Do I just leave my pools of tears somewhere at the back of my mind to rot and evaporate?
No, I can’t.
I won’t be able to forgive myself after
But the clog in my throat just won’t spin
And I end up not being able to speak my thoughts again
This feeling, however, is not pleasant
I would be full of smiles one second then those thoughts would run widely again
And I would plunge into the bucket called “reality”
I thought of it as a dream
But it was too fleeting and pleasant
There were many that I’ve met who supported me
And welcomed me
And it made me feel special
Then like a brick crashing into fragile glass,
It shatters
Time is too short
Life is even shorter -
Like a thread that can be snapped, snipped, twisted, and buried any second
Any moment
And anytime
But even so, society will still go on
The Earth will continue to rotate and spin
People will continue walking on, sipping their coffee
As if nothing ever happened
As if that time never existed at all
But then there’s small remnants of those times
And when you find those things and remember to reminisce
It’s as if nothing changed at all
So, it can’t be that bad
Can it?
But then you hear those sounds again
That small tink! on the glass
And that changes into a crack, then a smash
Then into the sound of falling jagged pieces
And into something that’s broken and will remain broken
Until pieced up together again
By someone,
Anyone
As long as they know, and approach that scene
With genuine intentions
With a piece of sharp glass, you can use it to cut someone
But have you ever thought that was what the glass wanted to be used for?
What if it didn’t want to become the “murder weapon”?
Or to be labeled as dangerous?
Or what if it never wanted to be broken in the first place?
Or that it never wanted to be left alone?
Or that it’s scared that people will never appreciate its beauty because of its sharp edges that’s blown apart?
But it’s fate isn’t exactly up to that glass
Because the future is muddled
And it all depends on…