Locally dorky

Mary had a little lamb Who loved its gold stilettos. So, with those strung around its hoofs It roamed about the ghettos. It stood out way too much When with other sheep it grazed; Its black fur did not help Mary thought to herself, dazed. It stood tall in its atrocity The act that could lead to slaughter. Mary couldn’t help but snatch away The object of vile laughter. The lamb grew up a little tall, Its fur lacking density. One more pebble in Mary’s path, Bringing it closer to mortality. Mary sowed on it some fur, Taught it to blend in. But the lamb, in its ignorance, Still stood out with no kins. Mary’s head wildly spun The lamb to her was dear; She locked it away in a stable Where no death it could fear. The lamb stayed till it was a sheep Till it began missing the meadows; To it they called out, the greens, It just had to escape the shadows. The black sheep broke confines In all its magnificence and glory. It pushed with all its strength,

Handle with care,  Don’t let me break I’m brittle that way. A single fall Can shatter me all So let me stand tall. In a world of brass I am but glass, I got the shine but no mass. In me you can form chinks  And send me right to the brinks, Get me tumbling till it all sinks. What can I say? I’m brittle  Since I was just very little  I can’t take a plunge a tittle.  You need to know I am fragile,  Not like you, so agile.  I can’t move swiftly with no guide.  I am the river that stops at the rocks,  Doesn’t flow through, can’t bear the costs; The idea of pain sends me to shocks.  At one time I had been more,  I didn’t break, only scratches were shown But that tolerance I no longer hold.  I am brittle to your touch,  To your arms I will clutch But I break form when you scathe my trust. I know the world’s not mine  It’s of those who are brine  Who pickle on their way to the shrine. I sway but I know I’