mended glass

Who she was last year,

Compared to what she is now.

A vessel of honey,

Transformed into malt vinegar.

But is it a surprise that a girl so young and hopeful 

Had her naive hopes and beliefs laughed at and destroyed?

Like a vase resting on the shelf's edge,

Destined to shatter, doomed to be smashed,

The rejection felt like a knife.

And on the ground crumbled in pieces,

The sweet girl quietly wept.

For all that she had believed was morally common and right,

Was disregarded and scarce.

She sat in silence broken, or at least she thought she was,

That small flame within her cooling and weak,

But then she remembered that the lack of agreement from all,

Does not make her beliefs insignificant and small.

The thoughts of the many could never burn out the fire of the few.

And so she picked herself up,

The shards from the vase were hot glued back together,

And although she looked the same,

Something within her had changed.

No, honey no longer surges through her veins,

She is not sweet as a peach, nor quiet and trusting.

But is it so bad that she's now slightly bitter?

Can you name a sweet soul that hasn't met a tragic end?

Like the darkest chocolate; her new flavor does not appeal to all.

She's lost her superfluous kindness and assumption that all people are good,

But those who can stomach her initial bite,

Will surely appreciate what she has grown to become.

She has matured; she is strong; she is enough

And I've grown to accept she is me.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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