Stained Glass
When I was born, I was so little.
Nothing special, one in a million,
So small, so brittle.
As I rolled on through good years and bad years,
Watched the world erupt with fire,
Watched the sky shed endless tears.
It got very hot and then very, very cold.
Nature proving that it can not be controlled.
I got a little older, still waiting to see what I'll become.
I got a little older, starting to lose enthusiasm.
I watched as everyone else got chances and picked,
I started thinking, maybe it's because I am not perfect.
Just when I had given up hope, my time came,
Scooped up, then gently placed into flame.
So what if I wasn't of the upper class!
So what if, for perfect, I couldn't pass!
Now I am part of something beautiful to be shown to the mass...
Stained Glass
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