Just a Piece of Glass

I am a piece of glass and if you’ll listen, I’ll tell you my story.

I used to be a part of a pop bottle until a boy, who had just been in an argument, threw me at another boy’s car. I hit the car and fell to the ground and shattered into a million pieces.

I cried. You know, it hurts to be broken.

Then a man came by. A big man in a dark suit. He had a black beard and big dark eyes, and on his feet were huge, mountainous shoes. He lashed out and kicked me and scattered me even more and I knew I’d never be of any use to anyone again. He laughed at me as he stomped away.

Then another man came by. He had gray hair. He had a beard too but he didn’t look mean. He gently picked up a piece of me and took me home with him. Later, at home, he took a file and filed off my sharp edges and made me into a beautiful piece of glass. Then he put me with a bunch of other pieces and when he had finished, I looked around and saw that I was in a great big window with a picture of a man on it. The man was on a cross, and me? I’m the teardrop in the man’s eye.