I don't think, at least
that you think about me
when I'm all alone
spilling out the secrets
that I've hid for the past few months
because I'm supposed to be
new and improved
when I'm really just
stuck in a rut
thinking about what it would be like
to go back in time
and change my mind
I'm really just broken glass
that have footprints imprinted
on the surface of my world
because everyone fails to see
that I am still broken glass
holding up the world
and you
like all the others
walk on my glass
and fail to notice a crack