Once broken with innocence,
Built again with care.
If shattered on purpose,
Pieces wouldn't be found.
As for the ship in the bottle,
She'll find another sea
And another sky
Or a maelstrom of deceit
Or maybe create maelstroms of her own.
For she knows no bottles anymore.
Why the false sense of security?
When she can have a crew of her own!
Without worrying about the shattered glass
And it's piercing dust
That cuts through her.
That's been cutting through her.
All this while.