I am delicate
And fragile,
My heart,
Made of glass.
I will shatter,
And break
From the life
Of my past.
My skin,
Snow white,
Not a hue in sight.
For I rest wearily,
On this cold night.
But I wonder,
And ponder,
How we seem weak
To seek.
'How 'soft' could one be?'
They say to me.
In times of hurt,
Anguish
And true defeat.
I turn to face
The ones of deceit,
As they look upon me
With disgust and grief.
'You are not as strong as you should be'
'Life is not full of roses and buzzing bees'
'It is indeed tough, but you must perk up'
'You must come into life , ready to fight'
How can one
Being,
Tend to agree?
On a life
In stone
And utter cold tone,
For one
Like a flower,
Will blossom
Like a tree.
Will flourish
And nourish
The ones
In need.
Will save the souls
That are lost at sea.
I am delicate
And fragile,
And that is who
I shall be.
