Two Can Play At That Game
Shattered glass, I often referred to myself as. The problem being what to do with the bladed broken pieces. Sharp, like my features and words, that will cut you if you aren't careful. The question always was: Am I capable of being stained glass, the light forming art from my destruction? But more recently someone referred to me as a crystal, and that might perhaps better capture the paradox of my simplicity and complexity. Careful. Either way, it's still sharp, but the light still produces beauty.