Shard of Glass

People look at my arm and ask,

How I suffered that deep cut.

I look at my arm , and answer ,

A piece of glass scarred me deep.

What they fail to understand is that,

She was the glass.

Delicate and shiny.

A little rough about the edges but very smooth if someone took time to look beyond the surface,

They would realize, she reflects.

She was strong , tough yet, soft and fragile.

She was predictable in her unpredictability.

I tried to polish her , and when I pressed hard, The glass broke and hurt me deep.

I look at my arm again, and say that it’s been a while but it still hurts , yet it doesn’t kill me.

-Lazarus

 

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