Glister of the glasses shattered
The dream state of the masses scattered
Picture perfect was always tattered
But even so I pray my praise mattered

Others see what I adore so much
But none as I, all they seek is touch
I would too, but I seem to crutch
Because through this lens I can see a hutch

I wrote instructions on how to live and strive
But I cant read my own handwriting on how to survive
Without certain knowledge how can one thrive?
I know if I continue an end will soon arrive.

These once renown lenses shown a world
Kinda rose tinted but slipped and hurled
Cracks on the lens, the glass was curled
Disorienting sight that was swirled.

I'll leave the glasses there on the shelf
Until I can get up and find it myself
Nothing is perfect and no one is either
I guess it means this is now a breather