We're all glass bottles.
Simple.
Clear.
Empty glass bottles.
Sitting on someones shelf, for keepsake.
Slowly over time, we start filling with toxic fumes that bead up and collect at the base.
Over flowing with this vile compound, we try to soak up the remains and cap ourselves off from any other chemicals adding to this combustible cocktail, shaken and stirred for years.
Til one day, someone with a soft, warm, caring grip picks us up like a found gem, inspired to rid us of the abysmal creation within.
Drop after drop we start to drain and gain our clarity again.
Then as if from nowhere, a spark flies and catches the corner of the tattered, soaked rag once a security blanket, now, the perfect fuse.
Upon ignition, our once heaven sent savior becomes startled and frightened, casting us away into the dark with no remorse or thought about our fragility.
Our flame growing with intensity, now, lighting our way down to the ground.
We shatter, exposing what was once contained, it meets the flame it has sought after for years.
Now, smothering and destroying everything beautiful in our surrounding path, waiting for the moment we finally burn out and someone with the time and patience to piece us back together, recycling us, making us whole again.