You bring forth to me
A jar of melody.
A music, all made
From sweet poetries.

I have it fallen
I have it broken
I have mistaken

And now I spill
My last poetry
As you wish
As you expected it to be.

Though its property
Of fragility
Shan't hold the lines,
I shall continue to spill.

Though its pieces
Turn to debris
I shall always keep it
For I once owned it.