I am the narrow covenant where arm and body convene in silence. I confess labor and warmth without ever moving an inch. Neither seen nor celebrated, I nonetheless make my presence known.

I have no voice, yet I make eyes speak. I have no blade, yet I cut deeper with patience. My center is never reached in one step, Only uncovered by surrendering pieces of myself. I am not what I seem when whole, But only understood when I fall apart.

I can be a children's toy or an instrument in the professional league, Either way, both can cause auditory fatigue.

Don't count on me, If you slip on the soap, I will let you down, Just give up hope

I am a tiny slice, so thin and slight, a narrow shard that catches light. Not whole, not much, just barely there, a little piece of something rare.