When I Break

She was like crystal glass, exquisite and so delicate  Only used for special occasions. Was she unique maybe? Hard to find?Appreciated? Cared for? Why? it's just a glass.. You use it to drink from, disposable, replaceable. But when it's not there, who cares, who cries for it. No one You just reach for another one. It became cracked from one simple clang. It's disposable is it not? So, as it's pristine Shine and delicateness fades, it's says its goodbyes. As it is thrown away, it shatters to bits and pieces, it's soul slowly dies Shattered beyond repair, yet no one really cares Who dares try putting it back together, it's shattered, the pieces will cut you up. Why be hurt when you can find another one so much stronger and flawless