A story...

A story I want to tell
Of three things, that been curtail
A hand, a window and a stone

A moment that pauses in a tone
The window didn’t want to be shatter
Nor a stone did want to be thrown
The hand that was the one
Doing all that on its own

An insult can fly if it is prone
It cannot be forgotten nor can’t it be gone
Like the shattered window
Cannot forget the cracks on its own
Being hit by one stone

An insult is not like small stone
That was by one hand it was thrown
The hand that unthinkingly that throw
To shatter a friends window

An insult just like that stone
Once breaks and shatters the glass on the window
Stays shattered if it becomes a repaired window