PUDDLE

You started like a defenseless bubble. Every day your skin got coarser and thicker, then you smeared it with oil to find beauty and allurement. They began to attack beauty, and you pierced yourself through with spears to look protected and dangerous. Your spirit started burning, changing you. You longed for the New World. But you were scared of it. I saw all this in you when I had to catch you. You are weak and hide. Now you are a puddle, looking at which you see only your bored reflection. The puddle is so small and shallow that when you are stepped on, you do not make waves.