Yet another bystander watches me pass by their unbroken life.
They tutt at the shattered glass in mine.
Who are they to judge me?
Who am I to look in disgust, as I too tutt at my wounded feet?
I take it upon myself to guard the last shards strewn over all domains.
The edges to which I bare no grudge.
I blame what I can, other than the careless culprit.
But that glass was once whole, my memory holds that promise at least.
