Shattered tiny fragments,

carelessly splattered on a cold wooden floor,

blood stained,

by strangers who once cared,

swept away,

by ignorance and betrayal.

So the once crystal glass,

which appeased your yearning thirst,

now lays in the corner underneath your table.

It wasn’t long ago you had discovered its ancient cracks,

and unable to fix them you let it slip away.

Once whole,

now broken.

I am of no use to you.