A fall is only as bad as you make it
A doorstep is not as deadly as a canyon
But I would like for you to tell that
To the shattered vase

The jagged edges of the broken glass
Shimer and shine like blood on protruding bones

While cleaning it up I feel a sudden pain
I inspect the injury
A small cut has appeared on my hand
Red liquid pools in the palm of my hand
A chuckle emerges from my chest
"In my clumsiness and neglect I have not only hurt another, but also myself.
"I will let you have your revenge because I do not blame you for being spiteful."

I pick up the pieces and inspect the translucent stones
"I could buy glue, pick up every piece, spend hours recreating this masterpiece."
"No, I am no craftsman. I am no glasssmith."
"This vase is broken."
The smell of sweat and iron reminds me of the damage that I brought on myself

My body has already started the process of repair
The blood has hardened to cover the wound
I try not to think about it
"It will sort itself out." I think to myself

I head out a second time to transport the vase
Pain in my hand refuses to subside

I ignore it

Within a few steps the glass once again falls
My hand throbs with sharp uncontrollable pain

The palm of my hand rotten and greened
Much worse than it had seemed
I look for a glove to cover the mess
But the problem won't end untill it's addressed
As I look for the glove the rot continues to grow
But if I only find the glove no one will know
Before i know it i am consumed
In much less time then I presumed

My eyes open to a blinding white room
Surrounded by faces of people  I know
Disappointed but worried
I had not done what was right
I had not asked for help
I had not even taken care of the injury
These people all care about me
I had let them all down
I will need to try again to move the vase
But this time I know
I will need help without my right hand