A forest, blooming with vegetation for years, undone by just one treacherous thunderstorm;
A pink-petaled pansy, standing tall and proud from sprouting at last, tainted by acid rain;
A sturdy wall, its individual, unique bricks cemented in place, smashed by a mallet;
A cracking concrete pavement in a rough neighborhood, busted wide open;
A gathering held together by years of history, broken up by two beliefs;
One word, phrase, or short sentence can rip apart one's confidence.
Everything that had taken one close to a lifetime to build,
Can much easily be destroyed when one isn't careful:
When one doesn't have solid enough ground –
The support needed to pick themselves up,
And dust themselves off – to try again,
Maybe start again if they have to,
As long as it's done soon;
Otherwise, they'd stay –
Fallen down and still –
And do nothing but
Lie there and
Spiral.