A story.

A girl with a pretty little piece of glass.
Nothing comes perfect. Everything has its defect.
Same goes to the glass.
It had cracks and scratches.
With it in hand, nothing could be done.
She kept finding for somewhere that she could the glass where it would be safe.
She saw a wall in a good condition.
She hung the glass on the wall.
It was broken all of sudden.
She picked up the pieces.
Patched it.
She saw another wall.
She thought for sometime.
She thought it was the best.
And so.
Again she hung it on the wall.
But.
It fell again.
What should she do with the glass that had broken again and again.?
What should she do with the shattered pieces of glass that pricks herself.?