Glass

A glass, 
in a window, 
what is it to I? 
Why must, 
I care if it is full? 
Empty, 
cracked, 
broken, 
chipped, 
scratched, 
or foggy? 
The glasses are everywhere, 
yet I see them all as glasses. 
All that don't want to be shattered. 
Some want to float away. 
Some want to break. 
They are still glasses. 
All are beautiful.