You say,
you’re like,
a bottle.
Filling it,
with emotions,
until it cracks,
and breaks.
I am,
no chance,
in hell,
a bottle.
More like,
a jar,
shoved to,
the brim,
haphazardly.
I may not,
be as fragile,
definitely,
not as,
pretty.
Under pressure,
I may just,
burst,
into pieces.
In the end,
I’ll just leave you,
covered in,
scratches.