Friendship is a flower.
It is lovely for a season.
It is delicate.
It has thorns.

Friendship is fine china.
It is fragile.
It is beautiful.
It is used for special occasions.

Friendship is a flake of snow.
It is intricate.
It is unique.
It only comes every so often.

Friendship is a pane of glass.
It is reflective.
It is transparent.
It skews perception.

I am the beast under whose paws the undergrowth is trodden.
I am the bull from whose horns such beauty is broken.
I am the hand that crushes icy crystals to powder.
I am the foot under which web-like cracks flower.

Blunt and brazen and bold that I am,
I can't ever be a friend.