No longer am I walking on eggshells,
oh no, my feet now gracefully dance,
leaping on whispered winds,
landing on a delicate, creamy surface,
I used to be so afraid of breaking.
Now I've long since grown not to care,
if they crack, if they shatter,
simply place them with me and my sanity,
six feet under, decomposing,
for nobody has use for a long cracked egg;
Especially when its insides leak out,
like an alien goo, unlike what it's meant to be,
full of life, purpose, ideas, joy;
Now it's just a sad, rotting mess,
not even the best craftsmen could piece together,
though even if they could, it wouldn't last long,
for nobody can truly erase or fix,
those cracks in the surface.