She sits surrounded by remnants of her broken dream,
The perfect glass sphere which shattered on contact with reality
Releasing a waterfall of tears.
She tries to gather the pieces
But a sharp edge cuts her,
Scarlet blood oozes from her finger tip.
Even if she could put the sphere back together
It would never be as perfect
With the cracks of self-doubt and misery running through it,
Threatening to cause it to fall apart once more.
Perhaps if she could leave the remains behind
She could live a happy life.
But how can she abandon something
That has been within her for so long?
The flaming desire, the burning passion,
Doused by the flood of reality.
The doubting friends, the mocking words,
She had tried not to let it affect her
But eventually her mask fell away
And revealed the insecure person beneath.
Nothing can comfort her now,
So she sits alone in the centre of the shards