Every morning I open my eyes and my heart cracks into a thousand more pieces
Fragile like fine china
I worry now the shattered pieces cannot be put back together

Maybe i should have kept my heart in a cabinet and threw away the key
People could look from afar but never touch or break it

But it was me who passed around my fine china
To hands who could not hold it and eyes who could not see it
Because they themselves were busy on the floor gathering up their shattered pieces