Chipping away at my skin of stone
I cannot seem to find a backbone
and all the carvings on the floor
don't resemble me anymore.
It all looks so fragile and cheap:
to think that's the state I once did keep
makes me crumble more in my shame,
disgusted by my hideous frame.
If I glued together pieces lost
I still wouldn't recover the cost
that comes from the initial loss,
lying on the floor gathering moss.
But better that waste be put to use,
so I tug at the pieces left loose
so that my whole frame collapses
to redesign without these lapses.
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