I hold you in my hand, careful not to shatter you. They say, you are fragile. You look vulnerable, I agree. I know I could crush you to bits, with just a minute measure of strength. One thing I forgot: You are Broken Glass. Yes, you can crumble, easily. But, it is also your nature to wound, when held. So, with blood pouring, profusely, into the ground; I hold myself still. For, you've pierced my soul, unintentionally. You say you're sorry; Yet, I'm already in the throes of death. Not everything, that looks fragile, is safe. Some can wound you, to the core of your soul.
