Pitcher Perfect
Picture, a pitcher of glass, Into which, all your emotions pass, You fill in all your sorrows, all your joys, The pitcher holds them, so you may rejoice. Cheer the pitcher pours, in times mellow, Fear the pitcher holds, when you wanna let go. In all its whims and all its transparency, You fail to see, the pitcher's capacities, The pitcher drowns in its own blood, You blame the pitcher, letting itself flood. Made if the pitcher was of a mirror, Maybe then would you reflect on its sinner.