Pebble

November 3, 2014

I was once a small pebble,
a smooth surface, unscarred.
Only fingerprints would stain me,
no scratches, cold and hard.

They tossed me into the lakes,
and I would skip, skip far away.
Meet the next one at the other side,
but I was never there to stay.

A harmless game at first,
tiny bouncing on the water,
I made them laugh and challenge,
see who could throw farther.

Then they started lighting matches,
one spark only stung at first.
The action repeated a hundred times,
The pain became worse and worse

Slowly, I no longer bounced on lakes,
instead, developed cracks from being dropped.
Stuffed in their pockets was suffocating,
and the matches never stopped.

Bits and pieces began to chip off,
like dry skin that would peel.
I withered away, no longer firm,
but softer than heated steel.

I was once a small pebble,
now I am a jagged, broken stone.
Envious of the smooth, untouched surfaces,
That were mercifully left alone.

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