You. Yes you. You disturb me.

The way you break some, polish others, and chip and crack the rest.

The cabinet we sit in is filled with beautiful colors and shapes.

But you. You come around and ruin it all.

You open the cedar cabinet and choose which plates fit and which don't.

Which deserve polish and which should break.

But everyone seems to go with this process like brainless schooling fish.

We showcase ourselves with silverware to seem appealing.

Which works usually.


I sit in the cedar cabinet next to a plate of blue and white.

My semi-dull points ready for polish.

Then you come, but I am not fearful of you for I am beautifully shown.

You get closer and chose me.

For polish I hope.

But you take me to a blacksmith instead.

You burn me and change me into a round, convex shape with a long neck.

Then place me back like nothing changed.

Is this what you think we are? Your canvases waiting for paint?



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