Teacup

I held my hope in a cup of tea
I cradled it in my hands

And I made sure it didn't spill

They told me to empty out my cup
Fill it with something useful

And I almost listened to them

But I disagreed, and held it close
It is useful, I declared

And then one knocked it from my hand

They laughed as I picked up the peices
As I struggled to fix it

And mocked as it broke even more

The shards cut my hands when I glued them
Hurting what once had held them

And I wanted to leave it be

But my hope looked so pathetic there
Splashed with the shards on the floor

And I couldn't abandon it

The cup now sits on my bedroom shelf
Picked up and glued together

And the cup still remains empty

Cause now my hope stays in my pocket
Where no one else can find it

And now I have learned not to keep it
In something as fragile as a cup