Fixing Glass Poem by Zinger Wingz

Delicate are the insides.
Dropping Cracking Breaking Splattering
Always so close to something
To the chest,
To a passion or a love
Or just a state of being
Those glassy insides all shattered now
And they cut deep.
Deeper than your buried innocence
But hurts as much the metaphoric blade to the tongue,
To the hands,
To the mind.
"You can't say that, sit properly, you can't be that way", she says to me
I'm only as much as I'm perceived by my brethren
For they need me to conform or I cannot belong
In this hollow land of nothing
Where I become but a hollow cuboid
Only bound by the compressed air within me holding me together.
But sometimes the air runs out and I fall apart.
"You have tears", I told myself
These same tears that held me together
Were the same tears that overfilled me with so much pressure
That left cracks in my walls and broke me.
"So then what is life if your reliables are unreliable? " I asked
"Life is the divine touch of my hands that'll put you back together and hold you so that only unto me shall you fall.", he gladly replied to me