In the beginning, I was a solid, untouched block of clay.
Life took its small pieces out of me as I continued moving forward
And I fought through it
Because I was still strong
I was still solid.

I met people who carved pieces into me
And those who carved pieces out of me.
And then there wasyou.
You weren’t like the other influences of my life.
You did more.
You sculpted me into a new form
A new shape.
You took off layer after layer of me and set it aside at your own personal will.
As layers were sheathed away, I became weaker and weaker.

When you were done with me
You had sculpted me so thin and fragile.
You set me up high on the smallest of pedestals
To watch me and anticipate me falling.

I guess you got tired of waiting.

I was so frail when you came around to knock me down.
I crashed to the ground.
Pieces of me escaping beneath bedside tables and couches.
The only people around to care about me anymore tried gathering me up and rebuilding me.
As hard as they may have tried I was no longer the same.
I was cracked
And the emptiness was filled with things that were supposed to make me feel whole again
But I could always feel the hurtpenetrate the vacant spaces.
I was no longer me.
I was half broken, half fake.

And now as I am set back on my pedestal
The one I was once torn from
I sit scared of what could happen to me now.
I shake in fear that a mere whisper will send me falling.
At any moment at all
My structure could give out from beneath me
And I would break once more
Only for someone to try to piece me back together again.

But how many times could I break
Until I was completely shattered?
When would the pieces be too damaged
That I couldn’t be rebuilt?
When would there not be enough of me left
To create something that resembles me in the slightest?
When would I finally cease to exist?