Chisel Slowly Chipping Me Away
You chip away at me as if I'm stone needing chiseled.
Chip a little here, roughly sand over there.
You think by chipping and sanding you are making me into something better.
Each chip has caused a deeper crack. Each rough sanding takes away some of my shine.
I can only be me with all of my imperfections.
I see the world different from you, it seems different than everyone else.
Is my viewpoint wrong?
Patch the cracks, gently shine where you sanded before there's a break.
Do you want me, or a pile of sand?
Do you relate to these words?
© 2013 HeatherH104