I was so fragile
So bridle a small gust of wind could have broke me.
Like a flower in the wind
You had to hold me carefully
Or like glass I would shatter
Being held by a single strand of string, I was at my limit
But then I found a ink filled pen
And Realized I could banish all the thoughts for someone else to read
So I don't have to to worry and cry
For I am a shattered piece of glass
So sharp like the tip of a feather pen
So fine like the men holding the me
And now I must be proper, not sharp nor bridle
But someone so unlike me you couldn't even tell I was sharp at all
Someone could see me as dull, needing to be sharpened
But what if I was never sharp
Not even there at all
