The Glass

The glass,

It is neither half full

Or half empty

It just is…

 

There is water within it

Still as the snow on a December morn…

And just as cold

Like my heart

 

To most, it is steady, unmoving, consistent

But to the few who dare to peer deeper…

It is seen for what it is,

a fragile object, perched on a razors edge

 

for now it is safe, but prod it too much…

and it will fall

water spilling

and glass shattering

Author's Note

this is part of a collection of a poems i'm uploading, some were done for school, some were done just for the hell of it, and others were done for the healing power writing has for me...