so used to having one chance
and blowing up that very thing
shattering it to a million tiny pieces

so used to taking the one chance,
scribbling on it with my graphite
marking it with my kitchen knife
oops.

so that one chance that I was given,
is blown up, exploded, and gone.
just like every other thing I tried to do well…
a mess.

my one chance was littered with dirty tissues,
dirty shoes, beet red faces, and chapped stick smiles
wishing I could go back…

so used to having one chance
and blowing up that very thing.