I’m the type to break things 

Not at all intentionally.

I just live then things drop – unexpected.

Don’t trust me with glasses.

Nor anything breakable 

Except for my iPhone.

The screen is intact.

 

I have a protector.

It’s literally a saver.

This phone would be battered without this insurance.

 

Always not never,

I have a slip.

Not a fall but a soil.

Not myself,

but all the stuff I handle 

 

No shaky hands

I just pick and it lands

They just slip, they run,

then the rest is done.

 

A plate I crack and a glass I smash.

These crashes just happen,

It’s all a flash.

 

I’m the type to not put things back where I left them. 

The mess I create

will never be safe.

 

One time I just stopped and clapped for myself.

The mess was mine.

It spoke for itself.

 

At times I feel guilty when all does goes well.

Why hasn’t this food all jumped from my plate?

Oh yes I soil, more often than none,

These are the tales of a girl just one.

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