Justyce Firestone

A Red Hot Blob

I am glass. I have no color and am a delicate piece of art for everyone to look through. I melted everything that I am just so I could reshape myself into what I thought the world wanted to see. Everything that I was burned until all that was left was the red hot glob of nothingness, just waiting to be shaped into something deemed beautiful. I would twist, turn, and warp myself, anything to fit the mold of the next artwork everyone wanted to see. I lived to see their admiring eyes, the ones that would look straight through me knowing nothing of the pain it took to become art. I wanted nothing more than to be someone that could be admired and loved. My value was determined by the amount of eyes that looked upon me fondly.