deception played a serenade
tumbled over pride
I lost my secuirty
shattered into obscuirty
I had died, to my identity.
To eyes without acuity
my shambles,
were percieved as ugly.
Pieces kicked itinerantly
hopeless and lost
I remained, inevitably.
Piece after another
days rolled after each other
He had collected pieces
and made for Himself
in the eyes of the beholder
a perfect idea.
They laughed at His folly
I had lost my glory
"in your eyes" He said.
As he unravelled the new me
dumbfounded, He shocked they,
that knew the old me.
Uniquely way past beautiful
the cracks and patches left me.
and from inside each crevice
He radiates my glory
I'm remolded, piece by Piece
Picture By: Woomie
"such perfection in the hands of the potter..."
