Sitting by his lonesome, he's propped before a vase. Out of the top flows beautiful carnations. The blown glass resembles the grace and beauty the elegant plants possess. He sits on an uncomfortable cushion. His handle chipped, his sides scratched. The permenant damage is not what he worrys most about. His appearence, however, he would love to alter.
He's colored a dark blue. A plain navy. Oh, how original. It is drab and lifeless, so different from he. To go red would be divine. To shine with a radiant, warm maroon. He would glow with a luminous delight. He looked down ever so often to his disappointing color and felt all the sadness in the worldcrash down on him. A crack began to form on his side. Every few seconds it grew bigger until he was nothing but a pile of pieces waiting on that lonely table by the vase with the weeping flowers.
. Now I understand it's a mug, but still, if this were to be really out there, you wouldn't have that explanation for people to see. Just a thought, but now thankfully my mind is clear and I understand. It was neat how you conveyed the ideas of a mug.
just suggestions 
Gender:
Points: 300
Reviews: 0