promise

Beauty is in my broken little pieces. In the way I  fall apart each night and yet manage to reassemble myself by the first ray of dawn.
I'm a mess, a collectible clutter of ill fiting pieces with high hopes of being whole in the future.
But that day will probably never come, for I'm not a diamond in the rough.
I was glass thought to be bulletproof but that was not the case.
I tried flame and ice to forge me anew and nothing happened, heaven's barred and hell won't have me.
So stay away, away from the mess I call life and you might be free of my curse.
But if you decide against my advice then promise not to complain about my sharp edges.