Porcelain Vase

High in quality; great value that it claims But the piece is so delicate, so easy to break All cower from it, in towering fear So the piece is left lonely, with not a soul near They also cower, because of the tolls of time It's journey embedded flaws; dents and cracks combined If it ever embraced beauty, it doesn't now to their eyes For it's man-made scars are feared and despised It waits, day by day, for a savoir's demise One bearing the ability to comprehend it's state of mind Every time one comes close, their caring's astray It's unimaginable, how it shatters in every which way Increasingly difficult for it to onwardly thrive Feeling not many, if any, would mourn it's goodbye Selfish pleasure, is something easy to obtain From one so fragile, to afraid to complain My sight has been altered in many ways Except my self-views - a porcelain vase No value remains, and nothing to obtain Given up, but I still remain, all the same