Hi, this is a poem I wrote, please, tell me what you think. The glass ring sits on my finger, yes, the one next to my pinkie, on the hand of which I write, the hand upon my right, And when I fall, the glass breaks, and cuts into my skin, and no matter what, the scars remain, and when the white lines appear, the CUT is healed quite well, but the scars remain, I throw away the broken glass, and find a new ring of glass to wear, just waiting, waiting for it to break, but when I find a ring of gold, and place it upon my finger, it never leaves it's spot, it never breaks, and I cherish it forever.