Standing still, cemented to the surface, and swarmed by superficial flakes when shook by the hands of someone larger than I. I am a figurine, fragile, fearful and framed by this glass dome that I've been living under for far too long. I long for freedom, frivolity, and happiness -- I deserve these things. I will break free. I'll find my feet once again. If I could just find a way to free my self from this glue. I peer out at the world as they stand above me, picking me up and shaking my world, turning me upside down, almost dropping me.
Glass cannot hold me back anymore. I will let go of the fear of hitting the ground. My glass may break, but they will no longer have hold of me. My legs will stretch, my breath will restore, my voice will be heard. Yes, I will no longer have the protection-- I'll feel naked and cold, but they will regret what they've done. They will still try to hurt me, but what they have forgotten is that shards of glass will hurt them too.
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