For those few who did understand that I wasn’t really pleased with my current standpoint. I didn’t think that another would be able to detect my façade, my ever immaculate front of anger and discontent.
Did the glass crack to smithereens,
Fall softly to the forgiving earth.
Nestling in with the pressure,
From the unknowing passerby.
The shards forgotten,
Stale dried blood matting the moist earth,
Unremembered uses of lost time.
The glass that formed the empty husk of a bowl.
It was nothing,
But the void it had.
But the content it had.
Was its use it had.
Cannot something be anything,
For the use it did.