Thrown in a mortar again,
And grounded down,
Into the purest form I've ever been,
My shell is but a thing of the past,
But give it time,
I'll build it all back up,
And while some have seen the worst of me,
They'll see what I think I'd ought to be,
An idealized construct,
Be it paper or glass,
Or the sugar on a creme brulee,
You crack the sweet,
And you get to the cream at last.
Depending on your tastes,
You may like what you get,
But it isn't likely,
It's best you just forgive,
And forget.