We said it wouldn’t matter,

We’d handle ourselves like fine china

Put out on display so perfectly polished,

Refined and dainty.

But we were raw and chaotic.

Too tough to break but easily riddled with chips.

And no one told us fine china was brittle.

Battle scars and scrapes;

Washed out in acid, dipped in lime,

Cleansed in alcohol and cigarettes –

We aren’t exquisite,

We aren’t regal.

Our china isn’t fine.

But I’d rather be an ashtray than

Just a pretty little thing pleasing

To the eye.


Image Courtesy : excellentreflections.com

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