Brittle

I thought I was invincible but I'm not,

I thought I was sturdy like stone,

But I'm like weathered wood and I rot,

And now I'm unsure and stand alone.

I ponder my withered exsistance,

And I debate if it's worth living on,

Too much abuse has left me without resistance,

For my desires to continue are gone.

I believed I was a well tended flower,

Spawned up like a sweet little seed,

But your love for me grew bitter and sour

And the truth revealed you always thought me a weed.

Now sure that I'm a string snapped fiddle,

My spirits you've gone drained fast,

For that once hearty soul has become ever so brittle,

And my love for thee no longer lasts.