Does the glue get tired of sticking around?
Stick.
I'm quite fluid myself,
But caught between others,
Cannot escape
Do not let escape.
Control.
My essence comes from moving around alone,
And once I touch something,
It's frozen in space and time.
Bringing two dead objects together,
To a lifeless oneness.
I'm almost God to the almost animate.
Stiff,
Unyielding.
My Kingdom is of togetherness.
Never to be apart,
Unless water flows, to obstruct mine.
Unbroken.
I can force broken shards together.
But, With care. For,
There's no space to reform,
Once unbroken.
But I lose form,
Once my purpose is fulfilled.
Lost.
Even if the oneness is separated,
My essence doesn't alter.
It tears apart,
The skin, remains on skin.
And everything else snaps.
I thought I could create forever bonds,
But there's always another way to break.
My Kingdom is fragile,
but ripe with second chances.
My subjects live beyond their years,
Multiple lives, till they turn to waste,
And then, I freeze within myself.
Forgotten.
With no one to stick to,
I stick within,
And this hardens me,
So hard that I lose my flow,
My form,
My purpose,
And stop being myself.
All because,
I didn't know any other existence,
But to stick.
Image courtesy: istockphoto.com
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