I used to believe once that all humans were strong

That they were all titans that could only fall when pushed to the brink of self mutilation

I used believe once that stories were just tweaked reality and that dreams really do come true 

That wishing on a star could grant you anything and Prince Charming could always save you

But when you grow up, you learn that the prince is just a glorified guy with the power of manipulation, the power to see beauty but only on the outside

That the princess is a slave to gender roles

The carriage was always just a rotten pumpkin

And the mice are just an infestation

Just as I learned dreams don't come true, I learned that people are most certainly not indestructible 

People are glass ornaments hung from a large Christmas tree

They dangle just above the unforgiving hard wood

Vulnerable to all agitators such as a gust of wind, the flick of a dog's tail, the stomping of the occasional adolescent who didn't get their way

One wrong vibration cascading them down to be shattered by gravity's merciless pull 

Atop this tree is the epitome of fragility; a crystal angel

So delicately tossed on gathered branches

With one exhale, she is sent over the edge and has the furthest to fall

She is a ticking time bomb, a grenade without a pin and no way of knowing when the pin was pulled

She peers down upon the other fragile people knowing that some of them will make it alive if they fall just right or if the branches below are generous enough to catch them.

Some have sturdy hooks that promise to never allow them to drop

But the poor unfortunate frostbite princess has no tethers, no safety rope, no bungee cord to jerk her back into existence, back to safe, normal, being

She can only fall into oblivion watching her tears float above her, bracing herself to shatter

But she shattered long before the fall

Reality shattered her hopes, her dreams, her life, her feelings, her beliefs, her ambitions, aspirations, condemnations, reciprocations, her everything

She was no more than left over powder before she ever lost her seat on the peak so her fall feels no different

She is cursed to merge into the cracks of the floorboard or be swept into a dust bin or be thrown into a landfill

There is no hope or future for a crystal angel, only the endless waiting to fall